


Cycle of Souls

by Green



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bloodplay, Community: vampirebigbang, Incest, M/M, Reincarnation, Religious Themes & References, Rough Sex, Soulmates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard loses his brother in the 17th century, and is turned shortly after. He grieves for his lost brother for centuries, but becomes content when he meets a man named Frank. Now, in the 21st century, he sees someone who looks exactly like his lost brother. In fact, he's positive the young Mikey is his dead brother come back to life. Will Mikey accept a vampire into his life, or is Gerard destined to lose him yet again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cycle of Souls

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Круговорот душ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/288290) by [silencelikeawhisper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silencelikeawhisper/pseuds/silencelikeawhisper)



> This was written for the 2010 Vampire Big Bang. Many thanks to miz for the beta job.

In 1672, a man named Dr. Nathaniel Hodges publishes a treaty called Loimologia. It is in Latin. It is translated to English in 1720. It begins,

> The Plague which we are now to give an account of, discovered the Beginnings of its future Cruelties, about the Close of the Year 1664; For at that Season two or three Persons died suddenly in one Family[...]

Gerard reads it in the Latin in 1672, and then again in English forty-eight years later.

> Although the Soldiery retreated from the Field of Death, and encamped out of the City, the Contagion followed, and vanquish'd them; many in their Old Age, and others in their Prime, sunk under its cruelties; of the Female Sex most died; and hardly any children escaped; and it was not uncommon to see an Inheritance pass successively to three or four Heirs in as many Days; the Number of Sextons were not sufficient to bury the Dead. 

The plain words do not even begin to accurately describe the Great Plague of London. Loimologia does not speak of the fear or anguish of watching one's family die. It does not describe the stench of the wagons or the feeling of holding one's cold and lifeless beloved. It does not mention the fruitless prayers one gave, the bargaining with one's God, the hoarse pleading in the dead of night.

Gerard hates the treatise and burns it with relish both times he reads it.

*

 **September 1665**

Gerard prays over Michael's sickbed. He no longer does it under his breath, fearful that God will not listen unless he speaks aloud. He grips his mother's (God rest her soul) rosary in one hand and lays his other on Michael's fevered skin.

“Father of goodness and love,” Gerard recites, “hear my prayer for the sick and needy. May my brother find consolation in Your healing presence. Show your mercy on Michael as you heal his sickness. May he find lasting health and deliverance, and so join me in thanking You for all Your gifts. I ask this through the Lord Jesus who healed those who believed. Amen.”

He has said the same words over and over, but they are not any less hopeful or devout now. He cannot find a priest in all of London who will visit a sick house, so he prays even more fervently. At one time, before he was gently reminded that he had a duty as heir, Gerard wanted to become a priest. Now he is aware that he may soon be the only Way left except for some distant cousins who emigrated to America.

He does not want to be the last of his family. Michael is more than his blood, he is Gerard's heart. They are more than mere siblings, they are the best of friends.

The wagon took his mother and father yesterday, and the bearers are calling out in the torch-lit street, “Bring yer dead!”

But Michael yet lives. He is young and strong of heart if not of body. Gerard prays over him again, sitting at his bedside. He does not care if he becomes ill himself, only cares that Michael lives.

Gerard has not slept in days, and weariness claws at him.

“Mother?” Michael calls hoarsely.

“She is not here,” Gerard answers, wrapping his hands around one of Michael's.

“'m cold,” Michael says.

“It is the fever,” Gerard says. He pulls the coverlet up to Michael's chin. “Better?”

Michael asks, “Water?”

The servants fled days before, and both water and wood for the fire are becoming scarce. But Gerard pours half a glass of water for Michael and then holds it to his lips. Some spills down Michael's chin, a testament to Gerard's ineptness as a sick nurse. He wishes he had more skill at this, some kind of healing touch that would soothe Michael's pain.

When the water is gone, Gerard eases his brother back onto his pillow. “How do you feel?” he asks.

Michael licks his lips and tries to shrug, an action their mother tried desperately to curtail all his life.

“Would you like me to read to you?” Gerard asks.

But Michael shakes his head and weakly pushes the mound of covers away from his body. He's thin and pale, his nightshirt doing nothing to disguise the angles of his body.

“What are you doing? You must stay warm,” Gerard says.

“Please. Lie down with me,” Michael says. “Like you did when we were young.”

It has been years since they did this. The last time Gerard and Michael shared a bed was when Gerard was ill with mumps. Michael crawled into bed with Gerard despite their mother's protests, saying he would protect Gerard from the evil throat demons. As a child, Gerard had been obsessed with demons and angels, and Michael's imagination had been caught by Gerard's wild tales. So of course Michael believed that a throat demon had gripped Gerard instead of disease.

Gerard shakes himself out of the memory and moves under the covers with Michael. There is no one left in the house to judge them or intrude. Michael cuddles close, and Gerard embraces him with both arms. Michael feels even more thin than he looks, and he's burning hot.

“I love you dearly, Michael,” Gerard whispers.

“Love you too, brother,” Michael says, but the words catch in his throat and he has a fit of angry coughing.

Gerard can do nothing but stroke Michael's back and worry. Michael is so young, just sixteen. He has never lain with a woman, never traveled outside England, never seen a play. He has never been yachting, and he has never had a cat, although he's begged their parents for both.

He is too young to die.

Gradually, Gerard is pulled into a fitful, worried sleep. He dreams of demons dragging him into hell, and of angels who try to take Michael away to heaven. Gerard fights and fights, screaming to God for help, but when he wakes he is crying and he feels a sense of loss that is so deep he wants to die.

Michael is still in his arms, and when Gerard touches his forehead, he finds it is not as hot as it has been. For one miraculous moment, Gerard believes the fever is broken. He shakes his brother gently to wake him, then gives up and hugs him tight. “Thank you,” he whispers to God. “Thank you.”

But Michael remains limp in Gerard's tight embrace. He does not move in discomfort. He does not protest.

He does not breathe.

“Michael,” Gerard says softly. “ _Michael_.”

There is no answer, no intake of breath, no amused laughter telling Gerard this is just a jest.

Michael remains still. Gerard shakes him, hard enough that he hears Michael's teeth clack together. Tears are coming to Gerard's eyes as he begins to realize the truth, but it does not stop him from shaking his brother even harder.

Gerard jerks his head in denial. This cannot be, it must not be. His neighbors are gone, his friends are gone, even his parents have succumbed to this wretched plague. But not his beloved brother, never Michael.

“No, Michael. You must not die. You cannot,” he begins to say, loud in his own ears, echoing in the bedchamber. He closes his eyes tight and begins to pray to God, begging for his brother's life.

No answer comes, no matter how long he begs. He notices it is dark again, and his voice is just a whisper. He can no longer speak.

Gerard wipes his tears and lies back down with Michael, pulling him into his arms again, close against his chest. He's so cold now, but Gerard will hold him and keep him warm for as long as Michael needs.

*

He wakes to the _thud thud thud_ of boots on the carpet.

“Go away,” Gerard rasps without looking up. He hurts all over, his muscles aching. He knows he will die in a matter of days. He wants to die here, in this bed, holding on to the one person who loved him above all others. “You cannot have my brother.”

A pause, and then a voice says, “Did you pray?”

Gerard swallows dryly; he hasn't had water lately. He hasn't wanted to move to get it from the bedside table. He's cold, from both fever and the lack of fire.

“I asked you something,” the voice says. “Did you pray to your God?”

“Yes,” Gerard says.

“And did he answer?”

Gerard closes his eyes and prays for the release of death to come quickly, bearing him on wings to his family.

“Are you praying now?” the voice asks, coming closer.

Gerard looks up and sees something from his nightmares, something otherworldly.

The demon has long, shaggy hair that is tied messily at his nape. He has red eyes and fangs, and there is blood on his lips and chin. His black clothing is wet, probably also with blood. He grins at Gerard's wide eyes and looms over the bed.

Gerard expects to feel horror, fear, anything but this thick numbness.

The demon touches Michael's arm. “How long has this one been dead?”

“Don't touch my brother,” Gerard says, anger peeking through his grief. “Your kind can't have him. He's ...”

“Ah, you think me a demon. So what is it, your brother belongs with the angels?”

“Yes,” Gerard says thickly.

“You believe in heaven and hell? How quaint,” the demon says with faux sweetness.

“Go away and leave me to my fate,” Gerard mumbles, realizing now that this must be another dream.

“You believe in Fate as well?” the demon says. “How have you survived all these years, trusting in gods and angels and the hands of Fate? How can you live a life that way?”

“Who are you?” Gerard asks. “You speak blasphemy.”

The demon laughs and bows. “Blasphemy is my favorite pastime! That is, when I'm not feeding on chaos and discontent. My name is Azrael, pleased to make your acquaintance. And you are Gerard, the last of the Ways.”

Azrael lights a short candle by the bed that illuminates his face. He is both beautiful and terrible, with white fangs that glint in the light.

“You are not Azrael the Archangel,” Gerard says. “The angel of death.”

The demon's smile flashes, and his red eyes seem even brighter. “I took the name centuries ago. I was pretentious in my youth.” He sits on the bed, pushing Michael's body irreverently to gain a better seat.

“So Azrael is not your name,” Gerard says slowly, taking in the fact that he talks in centuries rather than decades. Azrael looks to be in his late thirties, with only a bit of gray in his hair and a few laugh lines.

“It is now,” Azrael says. “I am whoever I decide to be.”

Gerard slowly sits up. “If you are to kill me, I ask only that you make it quick.”

“And where do you think you will go when you die?” Azrael asks curiously. “To heaven, with your family? Or have you done something in your life worth hell? Or shall you live in purgatory, until your soul is clean enough to be worthy of paradise?”

“I've been faithful to God and the Church,” Gerard says slowly. “I have attended mass and confession, and I have done penance for my sins.”

Azrael laughs. “You think those superficial trappings will save you from the worms?”

Gerard shakes his head and looks down at Michael. “I just want to be with my brother.”

“I can't help you with that,” Azrael says. “But I like you, Gerard. You have a certain love and earnestness in you that touches my unbeating heart.”

“I don't understand,” Gerard says.

But then Azrael is moving as fast as lightning in the sky, and he grips Gerard's jaw, tipping back and exposing his neck. “You will,” he says, and moves again, his head down. His fangs pierce Gerard's throat.

Gerard tries to cry out, but all that comes out of his mouth is a gurgle. This is how it ends, he thinks. At least it will be quick.

*

He wakes to hunger like he's never felt before. It is agony, and he can think only of quenching it.

“Shh, I know,” a voice says, but Gerard barely makes out the words. What he does understand is that there is warm skin beneath his mouth, and it is so easy to bite down to get to the blood beneath.

He guzzles messily, blood running down his chin and neck. He hears a laugh and a fading heartbeat. He doesn't care. All he knows is that his numbness has been replaced with a hunger for blood and the thrill of drinking it.

The blood tastes amazing, like drinking life itself. When no more comes to his mouth, he whines low in his throat.

“There will be more,” the voice says kindly.

Gerard opens his eyes and looks up.

Azrael is smiling at him proudly, holding the body of some poor soul. He drops the corpse to the floor while Gerard looks away quickly.

He is no longer in his home. He is in someone else's house, and bodies lie strewn around the room. His mind wants to panic, but there's something else there now, a sense of accomplishment and rightness. And hunger, still hunger. He looks to his sire for direction, knowing he will show him what to do.

Azrael rests his hand on the small of Gerard's back and gently pushes him over to a canopied bed. “This one is almost gone,” he says, and when Gerard looks down he sees a child, sweat-soaked and vulnerable.

Gerard swallows hard and his fangs pierce his bottom lip sharply. “She's just a child,” he says.

“She will die in moments anyway,” Azrael says, his voice kind and cajoling.

Gerard watches the girl's labored breaths move her thin chest. He is hungry, and the girl is too far gone to know better anyway.

“God forgive me,” Gerard whispers before taking the child into his arms and tilting her small head back. His fangs slice through her throat easily and the blood pumps into his mouth. He can hear her weak heart beating furious-fast, like the wings of a bird in flight. He swallows her blood, which is thick and sweet.

“Good childe,” Azrael says, and Gerard thinks he's speaking to the girl at first. But then it comes to him and he understands – he is the childe and Azrael is his sire.

Gerard lifts his head from the girl – dead, now – and sees that Azrael is watching him intently. “Is this what you want?”

“What do you mean?” Azrael says, coming closer and pulling the corpse from Gerard's arms.

“I'm a killer now. Is that what you wanted?” Gerard asks. He says the words flatly, without any inflection. He doesn't know why he can't feel the pain of murdering someone, the shame or the anguish. He only knows it is wrong. _He_ is wrong.

“You are something more than you were,” Azrael says. “You are better than your human thoughts.”

Gerard stares at the dead girl and her small throat that is bloody and torn. He did this. He does not know how to feel.

“I didn't want to be this,” he says. “I wanted to be with my brother.”

The place where the pain should be is empty. Gerard places his hand over his heart, frowning at the lack.

“It's strange at first,” Azrael says.

Gerard swallows hard and looks at him. “Why can't I feel anything?”

“You can feel. You are able to feel hunger, pleasure, love, and lust,” Azrael explains. “It's not permanent.”

“I should miss Michael. I should hurt,” Gerard says. “Why can't I feel that?”

“It is a side effect of your turning. You feel this way because you are a fledgling. I believe it is to make the change more palatable for new vampires.”

Gerard carefully tongues his sharp fangs. They feel strange in his mouth. “How long will it last?”

“Weeks perhaps, or months,” Azrael says. “You'll be able to hunt and feed, and do whatever else you want to do. It will not harm you to feel no emotional pain. Indeed, it will help you in your transition.”

“I'm still hungry,” Gerard admits.

“Come, we have other houses to visit,” Azrael says. “To these people, we can bring a better end.”

They cut a bloody swath through the houses of the sick, bringing death to those already on their deathbeds. Gerard feels no guilt, no remorse, although he prays silently over those he kills. Azrael allows his religion, although Gerard is beginning to have doubts. If there is a God, Gerard thinks, why does He allow demons like him and Azrael?

“Everything you think you know is wrong,” Azrael says one night, while they feed on an elderly couple. It is surprising that they lasted out the plague for so long, the two, and they meet death gracefully.

Gerard looks up, wiping his mouth, and shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“So young and full of idealism,” Azrael says mockingly. “A few hundred years will cure you of that.”

“What do I think that is wrong?” Gerard asks.

“You're still praying. No, I won't stop you. Neither will I offer solace when you decide there is no God.”

“Perhaps...” Gerard says slowly, unable to feel the shame of speaking heresy, “Perhaps God is not what I believed Him to be. But I cannot just ignore the world He has made.”

Azrael sighs, slipping an arm around Gerard's shoulder. It makes Gerard feel comforted, that his sire would touch him and show him affection. “The world as you know it does not exist,” Azrael says. “You will soon find that it is a lonely, horrible place, full of despair and atrocities. God would not make such a world, would he? Look here at London, at the poor souls dying in their beds and the streets. Where is your God?”

“I know enough not to question...” Gerard begins to say, then turns his face into Azrael's chest. “I do not know.”

“I will not allow you to tell yourself lies, my childe,” Azrael says. “I turned you so that you could see the truth and grow stronger for it.”

“But why?” Gerard asks. “Why would you want that?”

“You remind me of myself,” Azrael says, “when I was a young man, full of idealism and zeal.”

“Perhaps I would rather not lose my hope,” Gerard says. He thinks of Michael, and the love he holds for his brother is still just as strong, although he cannot feel the pain of losing him.

“Ah, you want to think your loved ones are in the arms of angels, still. It's a pretty tale, but it is just that. A story told to naïve humans, carried on by tradition and fear. Of course no one wants to think this is all there is. There must be an afterlife.”

“How do you know there is not?” Gerard asks angrily.

“Look at them closely, my childe,” Azrael says, gesturing to the corpses they have left behind.

“Like seashells,” Gerard says. “What makes them alive has gone on.”

“My stubborn childe,” Azrael says fondly. His fingers work through Gerard's hair carefully. “When it is all gone, gods and humans, faith and naivete, you will see. There is hunger and love and the thrill of the hunt. There is so much to be, but only out of the confines of your human mind.”

“And we will live forever? That seems-”

“Sacrilegious? It is. It is outside of what you know. We are the closest things to gods as you will ever find.”

“You speak blasphemy,” Gerard mumbles, his head spinning with rhetoric and possibilities. “God is not … what we are.”

“You will see, in time,” Azrael says, and speaks no more of his confusing ideas.

*

They move on to France after Azrael has his fill of plague.

“I am sick of the stench of death,” he says, and Gerard only knows what he means once they're away from London. For the first time, he smells healthy humans and fresh air. By now, his emotions are coming back to him, but the pain of losing Michael isn't so fresh. He does not, as he thought he might, go directly into the sunlight when he feels again. He does what Azrael calls 'mope', spending much time alone. He hunts by Azrael's side, still, but at other times he sits in darkened rooms – why use candles when he can see without them? – and thinks of the happy times, and the sad times, and all the memories he can conjure.

In Italy Gerard learns to paint his memories, to turn them into images on canvas. He stops hunting until the hunger is unbearable, spending all other time painting. Michael comes to life in oils.

Gerard's dreams are silent things, where Michael's smile is more vivid than Gerard can ever put down in paint or ink. But there are horrible things in Gerard's dreams as well, blood and gore that is not as palatable as it is in waking hours.

When Gerard wakes from these dreams, Azrael is often there. He holds him like a child and talks. And talks. Always in a low murmur, as if he might startle Gerard with a louder voice. He speaks of times gone by, of the Greeks and the Romans and the Turks. It is in these moments that Gerard gleans bits of Azrael's past, and he learns that Azrael lived once in Constantinople, before the fall.

Azrael speaks of vampire lore, of customs and hierarchies that were once the fashion. “Their time will come again,” he says. “Soon, I think. I have heard the whispers while we have traveled.”

“I don't think I'd like it much,” Gerard says.

“True, it is good to roam wherever we will without having to answer to a king or queen, but a vampire court is such a splendid thing. You will see, when the time comes again.”

These talks lull Gerard into a sense of comfort, and his affection for his sire grows with each night. He doesn't understand him, although he tries. He tries to put together all the odds and ends Azrael says and complete the picture, but Azrael keeps much to himself.

“Would you have your own court?” Gerard asks.

“I am old enough to command that, yes,” Azrael says. “Too old to bow and scrape before others. Except perhaps a king. The problem with the old customs is that they lead to ego, and ego leads to war against the humans.”

Gerard thinks Azrael – who compares himself to God – is not one to talk about ego. But he keeps this thought to himself. “War?”

“To enslave them,” Azrael explains. “If I were to rule, I would strengthen the laws we keep now, to hide ourselves away. There are more of them than there are of us, and they could hurt us greatly if they became aware of us.”

“But you would not rule,” Gerard says shrewdly. “You'd hate to lose your freedom that way.”

“Ah, you know me well,” Azrael says, a twinkle in his dark eyes. It is not the truth, but it makes Gerard feel good anyway.

Time passes without much notice.

*

1732

They are in Greece, in a large villa on the Mediterranean, when the letter comes. Azrael reads it, then throws it into the fire.

Gerard wants to ask the questions that are burning in his mind like the missive, but he waits for the explanation to come on its own.

“My sire,” Azrael finally says, “commands me to his side.”

He has never spoken of his maker before, never even divulged his name. Now, he says, “Selim has declared himself king of Turkey. He wishes for his children to serve at his side.”

“Then we will go,” Gerard says with a shrug.

“You are not invited,” Azrael says, and the words would hurt if they did not ring of absolute truth.

Gerard has a moment of panic. “Then we will not?” he says. After all, Azrael did burn the letter. Gerard has never heard of a childe disobeying his sire before, but he is certain it is possible.

Azrael sighs. “I will go and you will make your own way in the world. We will meet again when this era is over. Vampire courts do not last long.”

“How long?” Gerard asks.

“A few centuries,” Azrael says, and Gerard is shocked to find wetness on his sire's face when he touches it. In the firelight, Azrael looks more like a human than he ever has. There is no trace of the demon Gerard first met at this moment.

“I do not know how to go alone,” Gerard admits.

“I have taught you most of what I know,” Azrael says.

It is true. Gerard can put humans in thrall and heal the neat wounds he makes. He can run faster than the sun rises. He has, in these last years, mastered minor telepathy. Still, these skills do not make up for companionship, and the thought of losing his sire's presence does not sit well with him.

“You have my permission to make a childe,” Azrael says formally.

Gerard shakes his head. “I don't want someone else,” he says.

For all the confusing, infuriating things his sire does, Gerard loves him anyway. He has never been away from him for longer than a week. Azrael's leaving will do more than sit wrongly; it will ache.

“Come here, my childe,” Azrael says, even though they are sitting close already, in front of the flickering fire on the floor of their grand home.

Gerard moves closer. “What is it you want?”

“For over half a century I have loved you, and yet I have never taken you to my bed,” Azrael says. “I have not done so because … because I feared it would change things between us too greatly.”

Gerard's throat feels dry and choked. “Please,” he whispers.

Azrael cups his face and leans in to kiss him. This he has done before, and Gerard responds eagerly. It is not like it has been before, however. Maybe it is the knowledge that they will soon be apart, or maybe it is the anticipation. Azrael's fangs drop down and he nips and sucks at the blood that beads Gerard's lips.

Gerard isn't a virgin. He has fucked prostitutes, has even fucked them in front of Azrael. But they were human, expendable, and Gerard felt nothing for them.

The feelings that well up now are those of loss, love, and desperation. This is their first time, and the last for awhile. It must be enough to carry Gerard through. So Gerard kisses back, his fangs scraping along Azrael's lips, his tongue sweeping against another, blood thick in their mouths.

Azrael removes Gerard's clothing so fast he doesn't feel it, and carries him to his low, flat bed.

It is nothing like fucking a human. Azrael touches Gerard roughly, pinching and grabbing bruisingly. His fangs pierce Gerard's skin again and again, each bite sending fiery pleasure through Gerard's body. Blood trickles from Gerard's skin to soak the silken sheets. He is, as he has never been, owned completely by his sire.

The first thrust of Azrael's cock burns and stretches Gerard in ways he's never felt. But the pain is pleasure, Azrael sees to that, and Gerard's body responds in kind, rocking closer and closer to the edge. Azrael's eyes glow red in the dark, full of love and deep possessiveness.

When Gerard comes, it is sudden and as violent as their coupling. He shakes as Azrael continues to thrust inside him. It goes on, and Gerard finds himself hard again. He has always been amazed at his body's hunger for sex, which is almost as insatiable as the bloodlust. This time it comes as no surprise, however, because the desire he holds for his maker is a burning, unquenchable thing.

Azrael wraps his hand around Gerard now, stroking him roughly, and Gerard arches up and moans. Azrael lets out a low growl and comes deep inside him, cock twitching as it spurts.

But Azrael is not finished, and together they make this fierce, violent love until the dawn comes to put them to sleep.

When Gerard wakes the next night, Azrael has already gone. All of Gerard's wounds have healed, and the only testament to their night together are the torn, bloodied sheets.

*

1815

Gerard returns to London. It has changed much since he last was here. Society is a grand thing, but the squalor of the slums – rookeries, they are called – is nearly inhumane. No, he thinks, this is the definition of human. While the fine ladies and lords congregate in their silks and satins and velvets, the seedy underbelly of life goes on, like cockroaches in plague. Like rats. The high and mighty ignore their fellow man while he starves in abject poverty, but – and Gerard has seen this elsewhere before – the rats will win out, in the end. They will rise up and murder those who wear diamonds and emeralds while the poor beg for a crust.

It happened in France, and surely it will happen here. Unless, he thinks, one makes whispers to those who have the power to change things. Surely they can see the parallels.

It is not hard to insinuate himself into Regency society. He knows many languages and can fake an accent most dashingly. Thanks to Azrael, he has a fortune and contacts in other countries, and with the merest bit of thrall and mind-reading, he is soon known as an affluent foreigner, invited to the best house parties and introduced to the upper crust as – not quite one of their own, but close.

Parties last well into the small hours of the morning, which make them perfect for Gerard. The fact that he is never seen during daylight hours is never made mention of – society runs at night, and Gerard fits in with them quite comfortably.

He finds it quite entertaining to thrall and feed from these ego-driven humans. He rarely ventures into the slums to feed, preferring to take his meals from those who think themselves superior. He has not had any compassion for humans in decades – the combination of Azrael's teachings and their own stupidity rubbed that out of him.

He is at a large party. It is June, the height of the Season. Girls of marriageable age who have not yet made matches are scurrying here and there with their simplest, dull-headed smiles, eager to be courted.

Gerard places a light thrall on the entire ballroom, keeping the duennas and matrons and nervous girls away from him. It is entertaining to watch their mating dances, but not when he is involved himself.

He catches sight of a boy crouching by the punchbowl. He must not be more than fourteen. He is short with long dark hair – hair that has come out of its clasp and hangs about his shoulders wildly – and large, hazel eyes. Gerard has not fed from a child in years, but there is something about this boy's sallow skin that is intriguing.

Gerard makes his way behind the table and looks down at the boy. “Are you hiding from someone?”

The boy glances up, but instead of looking ashamed or contrite, he grins. His teeth are straight and white. “Yep.”

Gerard finds himself leaning in to ask, “From who?”

“My mam,” the boy says. “I'm supposed to stay away from the party, but I wanted to see. What's your name?”

“Gerard,” he answers slowly. “And yours?”

“Frank,” the boy says.

On closer inspection, Frank appears older than Gerard first thought him. He is small, and his eyes hold a bit of childish glee, which makes him look younger than he is.

His age does not matter, except...

“Why were you told to stay away from the party?” Gerard asks. Frank is old enough to attend, older than some of the people here, maybe.

Frank rolls his eyes. “I'm not allowed to do _anything_ fun.” Then he ducks down further and pulls the tails of Gerard's coat. “She'll see us!”

Perhaps Frank is simpleminded. That would explain his lack of invitation to the party. But there's a maturity in his eyes that Gerard picks up on, and the few thoughts he can glean from Frank's mind are intelligent – though they are scattered and flit about like fireflies.

Gerard ducks behind the table with Frank, amused by this human. He tries to read more of his mind, but Frank's thoughts allude him without eye contact.

Perhaps he won't simply feed from Frank. He is almost delightful, and he is still holding on to Gerard's coat tails, gripping them in his fist.

“Would you like, perhaps, to go for a stroll outdoors?” Gerard suggests. He doesn't use his thrall, doesn't think he'll have to.

“I'm not allowed to go outside,” Frank says, but there's a wicked gleam in his eyes when he says it.

Gerard smiles. “It would be more comfortable than crouching between the refreshment table and the wall, would it not?”

Frank grabs Gerard's hand and leads him along the wall to the servants' door. They escape the house through surprisingly empty corridors, and then they are outside in an herb garden.

Gerard inhales the scent of the herbs, which cover the stench of the city nicely. Frank is still holding his hand. Gerard doesn't bring attention to it. “Why aren't you allowed to be among the others?”

Frank stiffens but doesn't drop Gerard's hand. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

Outside of the herb garden is a path, and Gerard leads Frank down it to a tall oak. He thinks he likes Frank, as incomprehensible as that thought is. He has never gotten attached to a human before, but now he finds he wants to spend more time with this one.

“May I visit you tomorrow night?” Gerard asks.

Frank leans back against the tree and looks up at Gerard. His pupils are wide, his vision not as good as Gerard's in the dark. But Gerard locks eyes with him and skims his mind.

 _Tomorrow... leaving...gone away..._

“The family is retiring to the country,” Frank says.

“Before the Season ends?” Gerard asks.

Frank closes his eyes and laughs. It's almost girlish, a giggle, really. “I am not marriageable material.”

He is of age, and the Ieros are Italian aristocracy, else they would not be welcome in the ton. “I don't understand,” Gerard says, but Frank is looking away and Gerard cannot read him. The slump of his shoulders and the purse of his lips are a language Gerard knows, however.

Gerard swallows and leans in closer, so that their heads are nearly touching. “Is it perhaps that you enjoy the company of men?”

Frank laughs again, but it is weak and hollow. “If that were my only problem, I would find my life much easier,” he says, then suddenly smiles brilliantly. “Do you?”

“Enjoy the company of men?” Gerard asks. “I'm enjoying your company quite well.”

Frank takes Gerard's other hand and squeezes tightly. Abruptly he says, “Run away with me.”

Gerard blinks. Frank changes topics so quickly, goes from morose to delighted in moments. It is interesting.

“You don't know me,” Gerard says. “I could be a demon disguised as a man, with only your seduction in mind.” It is so close to the truth that he has no trouble saying it with a straight face.

Frank throws his head back and laughs.

Gerard mock-pouts. “I could be.”

“Then seduce me,” Frank says, leaning his head back and giving Gerard a look of challenge.

It is too much to resist. Desire and bloodlust are burning through Gerard's veins, and he gives in. He leans forward and presses his lips to Frank's, hard and this side short of brutal.

Frank gives a short cry of surprise which Gerard muffles with his mouth. Frank tastes sweet and innocent, as if he's never been kissed before. For all Gerard knows, he hasn't.

Gerard licks into Frank's mouth, tasting more of him. He keeps his fangs back even though it's difficult. He doesn't want to put Frank under his thrall yet, wants all his reactions to be genuine.

Moaning, Frank melts into the kiss. He isn't shy about wrapping his arms around Gerard's shoulders and pulling him closer. Gerard presses him back against the tree and kisses him harder, nipping his lips with his blunt teeth.

“Please,” Frank whispers. Gerard can feel the barely leashed desperation in the tenseness of his muscles and the slight tremor of his limbs. If Gerard were not there to help him stay up, if the tree had not been behind him, Frank would have fallen into a pile on the ground.

The further Gerard goes with his kiss, the more confused he becomes. Frank is as eager as an experienced man, and yet his surprised reactions peg him as a virgin. Gerard pulls away and looks into Frank's half-lidded eyes, searching for the truth.

 _Don't stop...please don't stop..._

“Have you ever done this before?” Gerard asks softly.

Frank snorts. _When would I have?_ “Dozens of times,” Frank lies, and tries pulling Gerard back to him.

Gerard smiles a little, reading images and want in Frank's mind. The young man is starved for affection, a virgin, but ready and eager for so much more. Gerard is almost tempted to steal him away for keeps. His enthusiasm is contagious, and Gerard kisses him again, letting his hands move down the lines of Frank's body. He's almost too thin, and his skin is even paler in the moonlight as Gerard lifts his shirt away from his breeches.

But Frank's skin is hot and smooth beneath Gerard's hands, and Frank gasps loudly at the touch.

“Come home with me,” Gerard says suddenly, not wanting to take Frank's virginity against a tree.

Frank clings to Gerard's shoulders and nods quickly. “To stay?”

Gerard would, if he had plans to leave London anytime soon. But it would not do to kidnap the protected son of a wealthy family, not if Gerard wanted to stay inconspicuous.

“Just for the night,” Gerard says.

Frank sighs and pulls in on himself, but he doesn't let go of Gerard. “All right. I'll come with you. Quickly, before my family realizes I'm not in my chambers.”

It is almost impossible the way a voice rings out in the night, “Francesco!” at that same moment.

Frank cringes. “My mother,” he explains.

“You could go back inside,” Gerard says.

“No!” Frank says. He shakes his head jerkily. “Please, take me away.”

Gerard could carry Frank away faster than the speed of sound, to anywhere in the world. He has one wild thought that he should, but then he extinguishes it. He will take Frank to his townhouse in Mayfair, and bring him back here before the dawn. It is late already; they haven't many hours.

“Close your eyes,” Gerard says, and pulls Frank against his chest. Then he runs.

The garden blurs for a moment, and then he is running into backyards and streets so fast that no one, if they were watching, could see them.

He doesn't stop until they are on his front stoop.

Frank sways on his feet when Gerard lets go of him, his eyes unfocused. “You- you did that.”

Gerard is set to thrall Frank a bit, to make him forget, but then Frank looks up at Gerard with awe and no fear at all.

“I did,” Gerard says hesitantly. He unlocks his door and allows Frank to walk inside.

It's dark in the foyer, but a small fire is burning in the grate in the grand room, and Frank follows the glow of light into the room. He looks around in the dimness and shakes his head. “You have no furniture?”

“Just what came with the house,” Gerard says. “And a bed. I don't entertain often.” Or at all, he means to say, but Frank is watching him again and the words stick in his throat.

“Take me to bed?” Frank asks, sounding not the least bit timid.

“You're rather bold,” Gerard says with a smile.

A look he can't decipher flits over Frank's face. “I am. I don't mean to be.”

Gerard frowns. “It is not a bad thing.”

Frank's face nearly looks as if it might break, he is smiling so hard. “Then take me to bed,” he says again, and moves into Gerard's arms.

Gerard takes his hand and pulls him toward the stairs, though he would have rather carried him. He does not want to show his supernatural strength any more than he already has, however. He's revealed far too much with their almost-flight to the house.

On the bed, Frank stretches out, and Gerard sits on the side and removes his boots. He could have done it much faster, but he needs space to think.

There is something off about Frank, about the way he is partitioned from the world by his family. There is something Gerard is not getting, something big. It is in Frank's laugh and the eager gleam in his eyes, but Gerard can't quite grasp the meaning.

In time, he tells himself, it will make sense to him. Perhaps it has been too long since he has been close to a human.

That thought brings him up short, and he pauses in unlacing his boot. Close to a human? Is that what this is? What is he doing, what is possessing him to-

“Don't _stop_ ,” Frank says, cutting in on Gerard's thoughts. Then, more hesitantly, “Or are you having second thoughts?”

Gerard yanks the boot off and covers Frank's body with his own, swift and absolutely sure in his movements. “Never that,” he says, and kisses Frank until the human is breathless and pressing back up against him.

His eyes are large in the dark, nearly black, though Gerard can see the hint of hazel around the dilated pupils. Frank tugs at Gerard's coat and says, “I thought the point of this is to get naked.”

Gerard laughs. “Not the point, but losing our clothes is a step to take.” He loosens his cravat and unbuttons his waistcoat, shedding the so popular layers of clothing. It took him time to master the art of undressing in these clothes, but he has it firmly down now. Soon, he is hovering over Frank in nothing but his breeches, his fingers moving to help Frank undress as well.

Frank's clothes are not as fancy or as intricate as Gerard's, but then he wasn't dressed for the party. It is easier to strip Frank than it was himself, and then Frank is lying under him completely nude.

“Just a moment,” Gerard says, and gets up, padding over on bare feet to one of the windows. He pushes back the heavy velvet drapes so the moonlight can stream in, giving Frank's pale skin a bluish glow.

He is beautiful. Too thin, too pale? Gerard had been wrong when he thought that of Frank. Now, though, he can see that Frank is put together in perfect form.

“I would like to paint you someday,” Gerard says, watching as Frank slides out of his breeches.

Frank is watching him closely, able to see by the pale light of the full moon. “You're an artist?”

Gerard smiles and shrugs one bare shoulder. “I'm still learning.” He's been painting for only thirty years now.

“I'm sure you're brilliant at it,” Frank says earnestly. He holds out his hand and beckons Gerard closer.

Gerard moves onto the bed again and presses his body against Frank's hot skin.

“You're cold,” Frank whispers.

It is difficult not to blurt out all his secrets then and there. Gerard wants to explain, thinks Frank might accept him as he is, but he keeps quiet on the topic and says, “You'll warm me right up.”

Frank smiles and wraps his arms around Gerard, pulling him closer. “You could start a fire if you want. I'll still be here.”

“I don't want to wait any longer,” Gerard answers, and then kisses Frank until he tastes the coppery spark of blood on his tongue. “I'm sorry,” he says when he realizes his blunt teeth have torn into Frank's lips like fangs.

Frank is gasping, arching up against him. “Keep going,” he says, and bites back.

Gerard growls softly, his teeth elongating. Frank stares up at him, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes.

“You really are a demon,” Frank whispers, but there's not the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. Gerard presses into his mind, but all he hears is a rhythmic chant of desire.

“I won't hurt you,” Gerard says, surprising himself. “Not … not much.”

Frank reaches up and touches one fang with the pad of his index finger. Gerard's fangs are sharper than a barber's razor, and the tip of it cuts into Frank's fingertip. Slowly and deliberately, Gerard wraps his lips around the finger and sucks. A bead of blood smears against his tongue and the _life_ of it makes him moan. Frank tastes like the static in the air during a lightning storm, only stronger. There is so much energy in one drop of his blood, thick and delicious.

Frank's breath is coming shallow and fast, and he breathes one word. “ _Vampyre_.”

Gerard pulls back and watches him closely. “Yes. A vampire.”

And then Frank grins up at him, bright and excited. “Not a demon then,” he says, as if a vampire is the better choice of the two.

“No, although there are some who would call us such.”

“Are there a lot of you?” Frank asks. “Never mind, I don't want to know. I mean, I want to know, but not right now. Now I want you to kiss me again.”

Gerard shakes his head, confused by Frank's sudden changes in mood and subject. He feels off balance, almost dizzy from it. But he does as Frank suggests and kisses him again, this time more carefully, mindful of his fangs.

His teeth cut Frank's lips anyway, and more blood spills into Gerard's mouth. He can't help but moan at the taste, and Frank moans with him, wiggling beneath him as if searching for more.

Gerard knows that pain can be pleasurable, but he wants to be careful with this human. Give him too much, and he will be frightened. On any normal night, Gerard wouldn't care about scaring humans, or giving them a glimpse of the demon within. But with Frank he is thinking differently.

With Frank, his beast is chained. His touch is delicate. He does not grab and knead flesh as he would like, he does not bruise Frank's skin. His kisses are careful, a brush of lips over Frank's pale shoulder here, the trailing of his tongue across Frank's throat there. He does not rip into Frank's flesh with his fangs as his nature dictates – with Frank, he is like another person. Almost human.

Frank must feel it, because he says, “You don't have to reign yourself in like a tame pony.” Maybe it's the coiled strength he feels beneath his hands, or maybe it is the gleam in Gerard's now-red eyes.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Gerard admits. “I could so easily.”

Frank smiles and tilts his head, baring his throat. “I trust you.”

Gerard growls. He sniffs Frank's neck. The scent of blood is thick and powerful there. Carefully, he scrapes his fangs against Frank's skin, leaving behind twin scratches that bead wetly. He drags his tongue up slowly, gathering the blood on his tongue. Frank hisses and arches up beneath him.

“Please,” Frank says.

Gerard knows he can make it feel good. It would only take the merest suggestion mind to mind, and his bite would be absolute ecstasy. But for some unknown, allusive reason, he hesitates to put Frank under even the slightest hint of thrall. He does not want to cloud Frank's mind – he wants him as he is, every reaction new and fresh.

“It will hurt,” Gerard warns.

Frank swallows. Gerard watches his throat work, the way the skin bobs and smooths back normally again. He can hear Frank's heartbeat quicken and smell the sweet scent of fear for the first time. But still, despite the contained panic, Frank says, “I want it.”

“You are mad,” Gerard murmurs against Frank's skin. He rocks then, his cock hard and eager and pushing against his human's thigh.

“You would not be the first to call me so,” Frank says softly, a hitch to his voice that Gerard takes as more fear. “Drink me.”

Gerard growls again, pressing his tongue against Frank's strong, fast pulse. Frank slides his hand into Gerard's hair, tugging slightly.

“Not there,” Gerard says roughly, dragging his mouth to Frank's shoulder. “Here is safer.”

“Just _do_ it,” Frank says impatiently.

And then Gerard does. He bites down slowly, his fangs piercing Frank's virgin skin with a pop before slicing down into the muscle. Frank cries out and tightens his hold on Gerard's head.

Gerard sucks once, and then blood pours into his mouth. It is beyond ecstasy; Frank is pure ambrosia. Gerard drinks slowly, swallowing only when he has to, not letting the blood pour down his throat but taking long sips to savor every mouthful. Frank tastes like a storm, thunder and lightning and fresh rainwater. Gerard could drown in Frank's blood, he knows, so he takes special care not to drink too much.

Frank moans and gasps and presses against Gerard eagerly, the pain in his shoulder somehow heightening his pleasure. Gerard is familiar with this, has felt it in the arms of Azrael. He knows well the sharp joy and desire experienced with this kind of pain. It makes him feel better, knowing he hasn't hurt Frank more than he can bear. No more than he likes.

Carefully, Gerard pulls his fangs from Frank's shoulder. A possessive, animal part of him wants to leave the marks there, but he heals them anyway, leaving no more than a large bruise that will fade in a few days.

Frank stares up at him, panting. “That was incredible.”

Shifting so that their cocks press together, Gerard smiles down at him. Frank's eyes go even darker and wider. Gerard leans down and flicks his tongue against Frank's swollen lower lip. “You are like nothing I have ever found.”

“How old are you?” Frank asks.

“I was twenty in sixteen sixty-five,” Gerard says. “And twenty forever after.”

“I must seem impossibly young to you,” Frank says. “I'm only eighteen.”

Gerard sucks Frank's lip into his mouth gently, then releases it. “When I first saw you, I thought you younger.”

Frank makes a face. “It's my size.”

“And your innocence,” Gerard says.

Rolling his eyes, Frank retorts, “I'm not as innocent as you think.”

Gerard wishes to argue with him, but time is short. Instead, he murmurs, “It isn't a bad thing.” He props himself up on one hand and squirms the other between them, wrapping his fingers around their cocks and stroking. The slide is slick with precome, and Frank lets out sound too soft to be a cry and too high to be a moan.

“I want... I want you to fuck me,” Frank says.

Gerard has never found vulgarity desirable, but the words ignite the spark of desire that's been burning inside him. His lust climbs high, and he finds himself pushing Frank down roughly on his stomach. He pauses then, aware he has nothing to lubricate the way. He has no need for creams and oils, although he makes a short note to himself to keep something on hand from now on.

Saliva will have to be enough. He slides down Frank's body and spreads his cheeks, then licks without waiting any longer. Frank makes a surprised noise and jerks, but Gerard pets his hip and says, “Relax.”

It takes effort to hide his fangs, but Gerard does. Frank relaxes and Gerard licks again, then presses his mouth closer and tongues Frank's hole. It opens after awhile, the tight bud giving way to Gerard's wet tongue, and Gerard slicks his finger with saliva and presses it inside, too.

“Oh, God,” Frank says, squirming against the sheets. His body is beautiful in the moonlight, smooth and perfect, and Gerard feels such affection for him that it nearly breaks his cold heart.

“Push back against me,” Gerard says, and Frank does.

Frank _opens_ , and with a breath says, “ _Oh_.”

He is so fresh and Gerard is reminded of his innocence, and knows in that moment that he will not take him with his cock this night. Not without something slicker paving the way. But Frank will come from Gerard's fingers, that he vows. He pushes in with another slick finger, tonguing as he does, and then crooks them unerringly against Frank's prostate.

Gerard remembers well the moment a prostitute showed him the wonder of his body, the way a good finger fucking could bring him to heights of pleasure unknown. He shows Frank in the same way now, pressing against the swollen nub, and Frank writhes and cries out, pushing back against his fingers greedily.

Frank swears, clutching the pillow in his arms, rocking back against Gerard's touch. Gerard keeps going, not needing to add another finger to bring Frank this kind of pleasure. Frank gasps and moans, the noises obscene and unashamed. Gerard bites Frank's ass with blunt teeth and sucks hard, a bruise blooming beneath his mouth. Frank whimpers and rocks, and Gerard thrusts his fingers harder inside him.

“Touch yourself,” Gerard says, already wrapping his own hand around his cock. He strokes himself leisurely, watching Frank with rapt attention.

“I'll finish,” Frank gasps, but he does as Gerard has ordered. He squeezes himself first, then begins to stroke in time with Gerard's short thrusts.

“I'll not take you this night,” Gerard says, trying to lessen Frank's disappointment by making his words soft and gentle.

“But I'm-” Frank says, but cuts himself off with a cry. Gerard pushes against his prostate harder, and Frank strokes himself faster.

“You're so beautiful,” Gerard says in wonder. He's never found a human to be so, not since his turning. But Frank is beautiful in the way Azrael is beautiful, whole and stunning.

Frank tenses and then he is coming, his cry broken and choked off.

Gerard strokes himself harder, watching Frank, and shifts positions so that he is kneeling over him. His fangs grow in his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, and then he is spurting out over Frank's skin, thick ropes of come that stripe his back and ass.

It satisfies Gerard that Frank is looking so utterly debauched. He even smells like Gerard's now. But Gerard sighs and fetches a clean cloth to wipe Frank's skin, pushing back the feral parts of himself.

Gerard can feel the dawn approaching. He has less than half an hour to get Frank dressed and back home, so he only spends a moment snuggled against his warmth. He kisses Frank's forehead and then his lips, and Frank kisses back lazily.

“Get dressed,” Gerard says, perhaps too abruptly. A sad look crosses Frank's face, and Gerard kisses him again. “I have to get you back before dawn.”

Frank dresses as Gerard does the same. Then Gerard gathers Frank into his arms and runs back, swift footed and sure.

He can feel the sun coming up, the time for sleep pulling at his body like a magnet. He leaves Frank at his back door with one last kiss, and Frank's broken, “Goodbye,” is felt more than heard.

Then Gerard is streaking across the city, back into his lair, as Azrael would call it. He has the presence of mind to pull the heavy drapes before collapsing onto the bed into the deep sleep of the undead.

*

Chaos comes the next night, and Gerard is forced to forget Frank for the time being.

He is leaving a gaming club when it happens. He hears the cries of a woman and the screams of an infant. As he looks up, he sees a man running toward a back alley with a baby in his arms. The woman – the child's mother, it seems – cries out again and again for help.

Gerard, being in a good mood and feeling charitable, follows the man and child into the alley.

Upon closer inspection, Gerard can see the man is fearful and thralled. He is dirty and unkempt, with bruises along his collar. When Gerard catches him and looks closer, he finds fang marks there. Whoever did this to the man – Laurence is the man's name, his mind fairly projects it – was not careful at all, and did not have the good sense to heal the human. Even the thrall is an abomination, only halfway done, looking to be a hasty job.

“Who did this to you?” Gerard demands, but Laurence only shakes. “Stay here. Do not move.” Gerard punctuates this with a push of his mind that is artful and not at all haphazard.

Gerard takes the baby and walks back to the howling woman. He walks more slowly than normal, and manags to slip away from her grateful tears after he gives the child back.

Back in the alley, Gerard shoves Laurence against the wall. “Now tell me,” he growls, showing his fangs.

“They'll kill me,” Laurence whispers, and then croaks as Gerard nearly crushes his windpipe beneath his palm. He tries to speak and Gerard backs off a bit. “Lilith and Cain! Them's their names.”

“Take me to them,” Gerard says, pushing his thrall on the man again.

The man's fear evaporates as the thrall overtakes him, and he leads Gerard through the back alleys.

It is on the East End that Gerard finds himself, and Laurence takes him into a large workhouse. There is the stench of unwashed masses here, although only a few humans are within sight. The ones he sees, however, are pale and riddled with bruises and bite marks. They cower against the walls when they see Gerard's fangs and red eyes, fear in their forms and – as Gerard can scent – in their blood. It is delicious to smell, and Gerard remembers that he has not fed yet this night. But he is curious, so he walks on.

He finds the two vampires – Lilith and Cain, as they are supposedly calling themselves – in a large room, probably meant to be a dining hall. Lilith's face is obscured by her dirty blonde hair, and Cain is rutting her from behind. On the table in front of them lies a corpse that has, from the stench in the room, begun to decay.

Gerard leans against the wall and watches them dispassionately. They are young, not even a year old. Fledglings playing at gods. He can see their lives clearly in the surroundings, and in their unprotected minds. They are drunk on blood, fear, and sex. Gerard has no use for such creatures.

He is, however, angry that they live so openly. It is unclear how many humans they keep, or have killed, or sent away without wiping their minds clean first. Azrael's teachings come back to Gerard, and he knows that these vampires are a danger to all of their kind.

Still, Gerard balks at the thought of killing them. He has never killed a vampire before. He knows _how_ , Azrael made sure of that, but the idea of doing it is repugnant to him. Why, he doesn't know. Humans he has killed by the hundreds, and these two are closer to humans than vampires. They even still smell human, their age not yet mellowing their scent.

It is some time before one of them notices him. “Who're you?” Lilith asks blearily. “Think you want in on this?”

Cain looks up from the table and snarls. “He's not human,” he says.

He should have sensed Gerard the moment he stepped foot in his 'home'.  
Lilith looks intrigued, but Cain positions himself in front of her possessively, growling low in his throat. He is nearly feral, Gerard thinks.

Only a show of strength will do.

 _Where is your sire?_ Gerard projects loudly. Cain, fool that he is, covers his ears.

Lilith steps away from him and comes closer. She walks like a common doxy, although Gerard can tell she's trying for grace and seduction. “Our sire is dead,” she says with a thick French accent. “Else she just abandoned us. Either way, we're orphans.” When she is just steps away from Gerard, she drops to her knees, her head bent. “Forgive us for interfering if we are overstepping our boundaries, Master. We did not know there was another of our kind in London.”

There are many of their kind here, Gerard thinks but does not say. He keeps that information to himself. He knows of three who are sleeping in crypts, waiting for a new age before they wake again. He knows of two who stalk the docks, and then one more who is like Gerard and prefers to prey on the haute monde. There are most likely others, as all the vampires Gerard has met keep their own company and do not proclaim themselves loudly as these two do.

“How long have you been here?” Gerard asks. He doesn't tell her to rise. He allows her to call him Master. Why not? They mean little. He pushes down the inner voice that tells him he enjoys the respect.

Cain quickly catches on and joins Lilith on the floor in front of him. “Forgive us, Master. We have only been in the city for a month. We come from Paris.”

Gerard's mind works furiously, and he recalls all of the customs and lore that Azrael taught him as if his lessons were the day before. “I am the Master of London,” he says, both appalled and sure of himself at the same time. “You survive on my goodwill.”

As one, the fledglings bow their heads and murmur, “Yes, Master.”

Gerard has the insane urge to laugh. He is overwhelmed, unable to turn back now, and has gotten himself into this all by himself. He must deal with the consequences.

*

The first thing he does is order the fledglings to clean up the mess they've made in the workhouse while Gerard heals and wipes the minds of the half-thralled humans. There are many of them, upstairs, downstairs, and milling about in the alleys nearby. It takes much from him, mentally and physically. When he is finished, he returns to Mayfair and sleeps for a week.

And in only a week, Lilith and Cain have changed vampiric London.

When Gerard returns to the workhouse, he finds proper thralls – not the fledglings work. He senses the other vampire before he sees him, and turns toward the feeling.

“Robert,” Gerard says. The other vampire walks closer, inclining his head. Gerard can see his blond hair and blue eyes now, the swarthy build of him.

“Master,” the other vampire says in greeting.

Gerard laughs. He can't help but do so. He has met Robert on occasion, usually near the docks where he would pose as a worker before preying on the criminals who roamed there. Robert has always called him 'Gee' before, as if to a child. Robert is older than Gerard by a century or so.

“What brings you here?” Gerard asks.

“I heard you declared yourself Master, and I had to see it for myself. I never would've thought you would do so.”

“I never thought I would, either,” Gerard admits. Robert leads him into the dining hall, which is clean now and fitted with low chairs and pillows, with a higher chair – a throne, he thinks hysterically – at its center.

“It is the time. My sire versed me well on lore and custom,” Robert says.

“But you are older,” Gerard says. “Except for the sleeping ones, you are the eldest in the city.”

“I will submit to you,” Robert says simply. “I don't want the responsibility, and I know you well enough to understand you will do your best at ruling.”

Gerard sighs and plops down into the highest chair. It is comfortable, at least. “I don't know what made me say it,” he says. “Lilith and Cain are just so wild and...”

Robert nods. “They are in need of a sire,” he says seriously.

“Not me,” Gerard says. “I have never made a childe before, let alone adopted.”

“They will still look to you for guidance. You may as well take them on,” Robert says.

“Robert...”

“Call me Bob, if you like,” Robert says.

Gerard peers at him, wondering at the familiarity.

“I'm not just trying to get in good with you,” Bob says, and Gerard realizes he's read his mind.

Quickly shielding – he hasn't had to do so in some time – Gerard smiles. “You don't feel angry that I've proclaimed myself Master?”

Bob shakes his head and sits in a low chair at Gerard's side. Gerard realizes it's the position of his right hand, where the favored of the court would sit. Whether it's intentional or just the most convenient seat he doesn't know. Bob looks up at him, blue eyes gleaming. “I've always loved the lore. Ruling isn't for me, but I could help you. My sire taught me the old ways, and you can always come to me if there is a problem.”

“Right now I'm not ruling, I'm controlling the damage those two have caused,” Gerard says.

“But you _will_ rule,” Bob says. “And I want to be at your side as you do. I want to see the old customs brought to life.”

“I only know the lore my sire taught me,” Gerard says, “and I'm sure he did not teach me everything.”

“Brigh prepared me well,” Bob says, revealing the name of his own sire.

The name is familiar. Azrael spoke once of the kings and queens of the Isles, and Brigh came up in discussion of Ireland's court, before it was called Ireland. Brigh – if he is the same immortal – must be rather ancient. It is no wonder that Bob smells as good as he does. With the blood of an ancient in his veins, he is a powerful vampire in his own right.

Then again, so is Gerard, although he still feels like a green boy at times – times like this, when he is out of his element and searching for the clues to what he must do.

Gerard drops his hand to Bob's head, touching his hair gently. It is a gesture of affection more than custom, but he knows Bob will not take it as such. Bob will translate the touch as both respect and a showing of power. Bob's power, now, is nearly absolute.

“What do you think of 'The Black Court'?” Gerard asks.

Bob chuckles. “It sounds suitably sinister, Master.”

Gerard makes a face. “I was trying for elegance. And you do not have to call me Master when we're alone, you know.”

“Even our whispers will carry now,” Bob says sensibly. “I don't mind calling you by title. You have earned it.”

“Not yet, I haven't,” Gerard says.

“You've solved what would become a problem for all of London,” Bob points out. “You saved humans and vampires alike.”

“I care little for humans, except that they might strike out against us if they knew of our existence,” Gerard says. But a twinge in his heart reminds him of Frank, and he knows he must find him again.

“I have a human lover, Master,” Bob says slowly. “I ask permission to bring her into the Court.”

Gerard sighs. There will always be complications, he knows. It is his job now to smooth the way for such alliances, to bring in humans and vampires alike into the court. Still, thralls were so much easier. “How much does she know?”

“Some of the lore,” Bob says. “Enough to get by when we are first starting, and she will learn quickly. She is a member of the ton.”

A society lady would know how to fit in with the upper crust, which is – for all purposes, at least – just what Gerard is creating. There are other blood customs of course, but someone used to moving in the circles of high society would have no problems adjusting to the rules.

“Have you claimed her?” Gerard asks. He himself has never claimed a human, although he came close with Frank. If he hadn't healed him, if he had taken him, if he had-

“Yes. Ten years past,” Bob says.

Gerard smiles a bit. She must enjoy looking ten years younger than she is. “What is her name?”

“Catherine, although she allows me to call her Cathy,” Bob says.

“Bring her tomorrow night,” Gerard orders easily. Bob inclines his head in obedience.

“You must think of taking a consort as well,” Bob says. “It will be expected of you.”

Gerard sighs, and again his mind is on Frank. “There is a human. He is not in the city, however.” Frank said his family was retiring to the country, and Gerard knows he must find their country home and find Frank again. He's not sure if his infatuation with this human will lead to more, whether he will claim the young man or not, and bringing him into a vampire court could be disastrous. Gerard hardly knows him, after all.

“Bring him back,” Bob says simply. He has an answer to everything.

Gerard calls the fledglings into the room and they bow before him, their heads nearly touching the floor as they do. They've cleaned themselves up and smell much better than they did the first time Gerard met them.

“Cain, come closer,” Gerard orders, and then he begins to teach him the proper way to thrall a human.

Cain is abysmal at it, but so was Gerard when he first started. The mind arts are learned over a long period of time. One day, Cain and Lilith will be proper vampires. For now, Gerard will guide them as best he can, patiently teaching them how to use their minds and bodies to gain control of humans and leave little mess for Gerard to clean up.

Lilith is a little better at thralling, and Gerard sends Bob out to gather a human from the streets for her to experiment on.

The fledglings learn where and how to bite to make it safer for the humans, and how to heal the marks they leave. When they are done, the human Bob brought is screaming in fear. Gerard watches her impassively before pushing into her mind and making her forget. She leaves in a fog, thinking she had a pleasant – yet slightly violent – tumble.

“Thank you,” Cain says. “Thank you for teaching us, Master.”

Lilith bobs her head and thanks him, too. They aren't bad, Gerard realizes, just untaught and needing to be led.

He shares a look with Bob and opens his mind to him. _I'm not adopting them, though_.

Bob smiles slightly and his amusement dances around his mind. _'Course not._

Gerard scowls and shields his mind again. He looks at his fledglings and says, “I want you to do something for me.”

*

It does not take much in the way of mind arts to convince a servant to talk. Servants know everything, and the information Gerard wants would not be a closely guarded secret.

When Lilith and Cain return, they are thrilled to report just what Gerard has asked for – the location of the Iero country home.

Gerard nods to them and tells them they have done well. The fledglings are eager to do more for him, but he sends him instead to bring back four humans to serve as thralls. _Fresh_ humans, he is of mind enough to ask for. It would not do to have half-mad servants. He gives Cain and Lilith some coin and tells them to lead the humans to the house with the promise of meals and a clean space to sleep in return for a little work.

He leaves then, entrusting Bob to carry on in his stead.

It would take much time for humans to travel over a hundred miles from London to Derbyshire, but Gerard is faster than the sunrise. With rain on his face, he reaches the Ieros' country home in less than half an hour.

He surveys the home before knocking at the door, and a servant takes in his wet clothing and lack of carriage before bidding him to wait in the foyer. Gerard snorts inelegantly; if the Ieros knew who was calling, they would have him wait in the salon, at the very least, while the servants drew up a hot bath for him and made ready a warm bed.

The Contessa greets him within moments of hearing his name. She offers him a seat in front of the fire and declares him soaked through.

Gerard smiles at her and takes the towel a servant offers. “I am here to meet with your son, Frank.”

Contessa Iero stiffens as though he has struck her. Looking closely at her, Gerard sees she is looking worn, and there are deep purple bruises under her eyes. He can fairly taste her lack of sleep.

“Francesco has gone on his Grand Tour,” she says after a moment, but Gerard can smell her lie. It is mixed with the scent of fear, such fear and revulsion. Not toward himself, he senses, but towards Frank.

Gerard will rescue Frank from this woman.

“Take me to his room,” Gerard says.

“He is not here,” the Contessa answers. “He has gone away.”

Gerard does not doubt that Frank would run away. But still, he feels he must see. He pushes his mind at the woman and orders again, “Take me to his room.”

Stiffly, she rises. She takes a candle in her hand – which is odd, for the house is well lit. She climbs the stairs, then leads Gerard to the east wing, then up yet another set of stairs. It is dark here, and secluded.

She is leading him to Frank's prison, Gerard realizes.

There is a key around her neck, and the Contessa uses it to unlock a heavy wooden door at the top of the narrow stairs.

“You've kept him in the attic?” Gerard asks evenly. His fangs drop and he pushes his will on the woman more thoroughly.

The Contessa, under his thrall, answers simply, “It was for the best.”

The room is large, but there is only a small mattress on the floor. There are no bedclothes. The room is mostly empty. Gerard can smell Frank here, but also the scent of frustration and loneliness.

There are marks on the walls. Gerard smells them rather than sees them at first, and when he steps closer to get a better look, he sees there are words written there in blood.

“He is mad,” the Contessa says.

“Anyone would go mad in prison,” Gerard says sharply, and she rocks back as if slapped.

“We cared for him as best we could. As a boy, he was so high spirited, but he never...” She trails off, as if unable to explain this away.

“He never calmed down, is that it?” Gerard says. He reads the markings on the wall, the words of pain and hate. Together, the words make a story, an urge to kill and to die.

“His moods...”

Gerard remembers the childlike enthusiasm and the lightning fast changes in Frank's mood. He remembers Frank's eyes, so wide and wanting.

“If he is mad, it is because you did this to him,” Gerard says.

She is not good enough to feed from. He hates now that his mind is touching hers so intimately. He wraps his hand around her throat and stares into her eyes, searching hard for Frank's location...

...and reels back in disgust.

 _Bedlam_.

It is so easy to break the Contessa's neck. Humans are fragile, their bones easily broken. He takes her candle from her limp hand and throws her body down the stairs. He watches her tumble down into the darkness.

He wants the whole house to burn. He wants the attic room to go up in flames. So he sets fire to the mattress, to the clothes that are strewn on the floor, until the thin rugs catch flame and begin to burn.

He walks through the house, killing every human who comes into sight and setting fire to whatever will burn.

His rage is so great that he does not know what he is doing until he stands outside the burning country home of the Ieros. The flames engulf the house despite the light rain that still falls.

He must get to Frank, he realizes, and that thought brings him back to himself.

He runs.

South London is where the New Bethlem Hospital resides, but Gerard has never been there before. The whispers of stories are horrible enough that Gerard has not needed to see it for himself.

Bedlam has no glass in the windows, and Gerard crawls inside easily. There is a stench of urine and hopelessness here, and Gerard has to concentrate on finding Frank or he will burn this place, as well.

He also smells the scent of opium – laudanum, most likely – given to control the patients. Gerard stalks the corridors, going from room to room, until someone says, “Hey, there! What are you doing out of bed?”

Gerard lifts him by the throat. The human's feet dangle above the floor. Gerard stares at him with red eyes and commands him to speak, although the man is nearly strangled.

“Where is Frank Iero?”

The man chokes out, “I don't know!”

Gerard pushes deep into the man's memories, past the unimportant, until he gets a good idea of the layout of the building. He sees the faces of patients, but they are all nameless to the human. Gerard pushes harder, until he finds Frank's face. He is appalled at the condition Frank is in, but he finds the place he is held in the human's mind.

Gerard pulls back viciously, uncaring that he's just made the human mad. It serves him right, Gerard thinks, after viewing some of the atrocities the man has visited on the patients here. The beatings are the least of his crimes.

He leaves the man lying blank-faced in the corridor and heads to Frank's room. The room is locked, but Gerard rips the door from its hinges and steps inside.

Frank lies staring into the darkness, his eyes half-lidded and drugged. Thick leather belts restrain him, keeping him from moving from the bed. Not that he could after being drugged so thoroughly, Gerard thinks.

Careful not to hurt Frank, Gerard removes the leather bands that hold him in place. Frank looks awful. His beautiful hair has been cut short against his scalp in a haphazard way, and he is sporting a full weeks growth of whiskers. His skin is a deathly mask of white. He does not focus on anything, does not seem to even recognize that someone else is in the room with him.

Gerard gathers Frank against his chest and carries him out into the night. His memories of caring for Michael come back to him, along with the ache of his loss. He will not lose Frank. He doesn't know if he's been given an overdose of laudanum, if he will die from it or not. He knows only that if it comes down to it, Gerard will turn Frank to keep that from happening.

Frank's breathing is shallow as Gerard lays him in his bed. Gerard runs a hand over his shorn hair and whispers, “I'll be back.”

He keeps his promise, returning quickly with Bob.

“Do you know what is to be done?” Gerard asks, sitting beside Frank on the bed and clutching his shoulder.

“The drug is poisoning him,” Bob says, staring at Frank. “I can smell it.”

“So can I,” Gerard murmurs, realizing it now. It is why he has been so afraid for Frank.

“Your blood will flush it out of him,” Bob says.

“Will it be enough?” Gerard asks.

Bob flicks his eyes to Gerard and back again to Frank. “It should be. His mind may not recover, though. Not from being in that place.”

Gerard swallows hard, wishing he had the Contessa in front of him again. He would torture her this time, the way she tortured Frank.

“It was only a week or so,” Gerard says.

“That will help,” Bob says. He looks at him again and frowns. “You have done too much tonight.”

It is true. Gerard has used most of his powers freely this night, and his mind and body are weary. He's afraid to sleep, however, not knowing how long or when he will wake. Frank needs him.

“Give him your blood, and then I will care for him. You need to rest,” Bob says.

Gerard wants to argue, but he knows Bob is right. And he trusts him to look after Frank while he sleeps.

He leans over Frank and slices into his wrist with his fangs. Blood comes from the wound and Gerard lets it pour into Frank's mouth.

“Not too much,” Bob murmurs, and Gerard pulls his arm away.

“Swallow,” Gerard whispers to Frank, stroking his throat. Frank does after several long moments. Gerard watches the wound heal, and then he lies down beside Frank, wrapping his arms around him and listening to his heartbeat.

He's never felt for a human before, not since Michael. Maybe he's softening in his old age, Gerard thinks as he drifts off into a deep sleep.

*

Gerard feels Frank's gaze before he opens his eyes. When he does, he sees Frank – cleaned up and shaved, his haircut more even. Bob has done well taking care of him.

“Frank,” Gerard says, reaching out. Frank allows Gerard to touch him, but doesn't touch back. He looks somber and still in the bed beside Gerard, unlike himself. Gerard asks, “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Four days,” Frank says.

“Why are you here in bed? Are you not well?” If Frank requires more blood...

“I didn't want to leave you,” Frank says.

Gerard smiles and cups Frank's smooth cheek. “Thank you,” he says, “but you didn't have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Frank says simply. He still does not smile. “I thought maybe I'd imagined you. Then I woke up here beside you and I knew I hadn't.”

“I'm sorry you had to go... where you were sent,” Gerard says. “I would not have allowed it if I knew.”

“I knew,” Frank whispers. “I heard them talking. My parents. I knew they would send me to that place soon.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Gerard asks, trying to keep his voice soft. He is angry, though, angry with the Ieros and angry with Frank for keeping this from him.

Frank does not answer. Instead he says, “Bob said you gave me your blood.”

Gerard nods.

“I can feel it, I think,” Frank says, stretching out more on the sheets. For the first time, Gerard sees that he is naked. They both are.

“What does it feel like?” Gerard asks.

“Strength,” Frank answers. “Commitment.”

Gerard shivers even though he is not cold. Frank pulls the coverlet up over them anyway.

“Bob told me about the court,” Frank says. “I don't understand everything, but... you are important. Why would you bother with me?”

Gerard shakes his head. He doesn't know. “You are... different,” he tries to explain. “I have never been drawn to a human before.”

“Humans can't be that different from vampires,” Frank says naively.

“We are,” Gerard says. He runs his hand over Frank's short hair and sighs. “How are you feeling?”

“Strong,” Frank says. “But I don't feel like myself.”

It will take some time for his emotional wounds to heal, Gerard thinks. He is a human with a human's fragile mind. Gerard wants to protect him, to keep him close. He will. He pulls Frank against his chest and kisses his forehead. “You need time.”

Frank sounds like a broken child when he whispers against Gerard's skin, “Promise me you won't send me back there?”

Fervently, Gerard whispers, “I would never do such a thing.”

*

Bob has made living quarters in the old workhouse. The inside of the house is beginning to look grand. The outside is still appalling, but that is the way Gerard wants it.

Catherine, Bob's human, comes to show her respect to Gerard. She is tall and stately, moving towards him gracefully. Her dress is of the finest silk, deep blue to match her eyes, with a scooped neckline that shows off the silvery scars on her neck.

“I submit to you, Master Gerard,” she says with an elegant curtsy. Bob looks on with pride and love in his eyes.

“You are welcome in my court,” Gerard answers. He does not have to add, “As my right hand's companion,” but he does, elevating both her and Bob in the eyes of the onlookers.

Catherine keeps her eyes down until Gerard bids her to stand straight. He sends the others away so that it is only he, Bob, and Catherine in the room.

Bob relaxes but Catherine does not. Gerard touches her mind lightly, searching.

“You know I have no love for humans. Bob told you what I did to Frank's parents.” Frank does not know, and for this human to know... Gerard's fangs extend in his anger.

Catherine's eyes widen at the look in Gerard's eyes, and then she drops her head. “Please do not harm me.”

“Master,” Bob says, not sharp, but his mind touches Gerard's in warning.

Gerard takes a deep, unneeded breath. He clears his mind. “Lady, I do not wish to harm you. I would not, knowing what you mean to my friend.”

Bob's small startle is almost imperceptible as he reacts to the word. But Gerard doesn't take it back – Bob is Gerard's only friend. He is the one Gerard trusts with his life and with his court. He trusted Frank's life to Bob, even.

Catherine smiles, not knowing what is going on in Gerard's head but reacting to his words as well. “We do mean much to each other. There are centuries of love between us.”

She cannot be more than thirty years old, even with Bob's claim keeping her young. Gerard frowns. “How can that be?”

Bob speaks up. “We have known each other in three separate lives.”

It is like mad gibberish to Gerard, and his confusion must show on his face, because Catherine makes a small sound of understanding.

“You do not know of this,” she says.

Bob shakes his head. “But your sire is ancient, surely he would have told you.”

“Told me what?” Gerard asks. “Reincarnation is a myth.” _The way God is a myth. Azrael taught me well._

Bob holds out his hand to Catherine and she joins him on Gerard's right side. Together they give Gerard a warm look.

“Not a myth,” Catherine says. “I remember my lives in dreams, and sometimes when I am awake.”

“She always has,” Bob says lovingly. It is odd to see the brusque vampire showing such emotion.

“This last time was harder for me to accept,” Catherine says. “At first I thought Bob a mad demon, until he shared his blood with me. Then I began to remember my lives before.”

Gerard shakes his head. When a human dies, it is the end of their life. That is all there is. They rot and become food for carrion and worms and beetles, they do not go on to a better place. He knows this with fervor. There are no waiting arms of angels, no singing choirs.

“If you look hard enough and live long enough, you find those you've known before,” Bob says.

Before, before, when he was human. His friends, lovers...

“I don't believe you,” Gerard says. “I have no memory of any lives before this one. Not other than my human one.”

“Bob can help you remember,” Catherine suggests softly.

It is too much, too fast. It makes no sense to him. If it is true, Azrael would have known, wouldn't he? He was ancient and held much knowledge, surely if this were true he would have shared it with Gerard.

“I don't want to remember,” Gerard says. He does not want to think of humans having these kinds of lives, of living and then living again. It would make their spirits immortal, and that is too precious to ignore. Gerard cares none for humans, but if... if...

He tries to push the thoughts away. There are too many crowding his mind. He has a court to see to, a human to protect, and an immortal life of his own to lead.

Bob and Catherine say nothing more. They watch him, though.

He is a coward, he thinks as he stands. Nothing but a coward, he knows as he runs away.

*

Frank is sitting by a chair, staring out into the night. Gerard must appear out of nowhere to him, but he doesn't startle. He turns and looks at him with those large, hazel eyes and holds out his hand.

Gerard realizes he hasn't smiled since he found him. He wants to hear his laughter again, that high-pitched giggle that warms Gerard's cold heart.

He is cold, he knows. He kills without compunction. He killed Frank's parents, set fire to their house, and left a man in Bedlam with a torn mind. For no reason other than Gerard was angry. His anger is a dangerous thing. He must control it if he is to be fit to rule over London.

He must control it if he is to be a lover to a human.

“I could feel you coming,” Frank says, and Gerard realizes he hasn't yet taken his hand. Still, Frank holds it out.

Gerard moves and wraps his arms around him. He leans down and hides his face in Frank's neck.

“You are frightened,” Frank whispers.

Gerard's world has been turned on its ear. Everything he believes in has been questioned. He is scared as a human would be scared.

Humans and vampires are not so different, perhaps. This thought leaves Gerard shaking and clinging to Frank's warm body.

“Talk to me,” Frank says, running a hand down Gerard's back.

Gerard tugs Frank to the bed and lies down beside him. He memorizes Frank's face – the shape of his nose, the arch of his brows, the fullness of his lips. He drags their clothes from their bodies, wanting the intimacy of touch and heat.

“I was human once,” Gerard whispers. “And when I was a boy, I wanted to be a priest.”

For hours Gerard speaks, softly so that the words do not travel beyond the two of them, and Frank listens intently. Gerard talks of his faith, of the wonders of God and the ecstasy of loving Him. He talks of his lofty goals he had, to be a good man, to love humankind, to do what he could to ease suffering wherever he found it.

Hesitantly, his lips form the name of his brother.

 _Michael_ , he whispers, and it's been so long since he's uttered the name that his breath catches on the syllables. He says it again, soft and broken.

“I loved him more than anyone else,” Gerard whispers, then admits on one breath, “I loved him more than I loved God.” He swallows hard. He's never shared that secret with anyone, not even Azrael. The guilt he felt from that love in his lifetime was heavy, and after he stopped believing in a deity, the guilt still remained. Training and rhetoric, he explains, were oh so effective.

Saying, “He died in my arms,” seems so simple, betraying nothing of the pain of the actual memory. Still, wetness comes to Gerard's eyes. Centuries have done nothing to erase the loss. The empty space in his life where his brother once was is still painful. “He died and left me.”

Frank wipes away Gerard's tears and stays silent, waiting for him to continue.

Gerard goes on, telling Frank of his turning and of Azrael. It is easier after that, and the words come rushing out. He tells of his faith in God and humanity corroding, of Azrael's teachings filling up the empty places his faith left behind.

“But humans are not fully mortal, did you know?” Gerard asks bitterly. “They die and then they come to life again. Living... living through their mistakes and getting other chances to overcome their missteps.”

Frank shakes his head in disbelief. “Like in the Myth of Er?”

Gerard thinks of the stories he has heard, digging through his mind for glimpses of truth among the myths. There are whole religions that believed in reincarnation, he knows, and he wishes he knew more of them. This is something to explore. Because it means...

No, he won't even think it.

“Do you think you knew me before?” Frank asks. “I would like that.”

“I haven't associated with many humans,” Gerard says vaguely. “Only those I had to, to make my way in society, and to feed from.”

“You turned your back on us when you became a vampire,” Frank says. From someone else it would be an accusation, and Gerard feels it as such, but Frank's voice is just curious.

“You are not like other humans,” Gerard says, but he wonders if it's true.

“Maybe I'll get to show you that I am,” Frank murmurs. He cards his fingers through Gerard's hair. “I hate that I got a haircut.”

Gerard pulls back to look at Frank. His complexion is better, his eyes clear. Still, there is no humor there, no hint of what Frank was when they first met.

“It will grow,” Gerard says soothingly. His fingers touch Frank's hair softly. It is still as soft as silk despite its shortness.

Frank closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Gerard realizes that he could not have had much of this from his parents, and had never known a lover until Gerard. He is touch-starved, craving attention.

Frank sighs with pleasure. Gerard leans in and presses his lips to Frank's. “You're so beautiful,” Gerard breathes.

“Still?” Frank asks.

“Yes. Always.”

Frank finally smiles. The sight of it nearly breaks Gerard's heart. “Even when I'm old and gray?”

When Gerard claims Frank, he will live far past his life expectancy, growing older much more slowly. But if he turns him, he will stay young forever. Gerard is not sure yet whether he will make Frank his childe.

“Maybe not, huh?” Frank says, still smiling.

“I was just thinking,” Gerard says.

“Of what?” Frank asks, leaning in closer.

“Your smile, among other things,” Gerard says, and kisses him again softly.

“You make me happy,” Frank admits.

The small spark of fire in Gerard's heart grows, warming him. “You do the same to me.”

“Is this what love is?” Frank asks, looking excited.

And a cold brush of dread hits Gerard's mind. Frank does not know what Gerard has done to his parents or his home, does not know the viciousness inside of him.

But oh, Gerard wants Frank's love. He wants his devotion, his affection, everything Frank has to give.

“Perhaps,” Gerard says. “I've no experience with this.”

“What do you want from me?” Frank asks, stroking Gerard's arm absently. He seems to need to touch just as much as he needs to _be_ touched.

“I want to claim you,” Gerard says. “To make you mine. I want...” He presses their foreheads together and whispers, “I want you to be my consort.”

“What does that mean?” Frank asks.

“You would be... like a husband to me. Companion and friend. My lover. My beloved. It would give you status. It is the highest a human can hope to be in a vampire court.”

Frank grins, showing his straight white teeth. “Why Gerard, are you _proposing_?”

Gerard can't help but smile back. “I suppose I am.”

“Bob told me of this claiming,” Frank says. “What it means. Not how you do it, though.”

The thought of claiming Frank as his own makes Gerard's fangs grow in his mouth. Frank watches them in fascination.

“I would bite you,” Gerard says, trailing his fingertips over the fragile skin of Frank's neck. “Mark you as mine.”

“You've done that before,” Frank says, frowning a bit.

“But I healed you that time. This time, there would be no healing, and you would scar.” Gerard ducks his head and presses a small, prickling kiss at the place where Frank's neck joins his shoulder.

Frank shivers. His heartbeat quickens.

“And I would take you,” Gerard whispers.

Frank moans. “You have not done _that_.”

“Not yet. But I will. And then, when you are spent, I will give you some of my blood, as an offering. And then I will take you again.”

“ _Please_ ,” Frank says.

“You would have me now?” Gerard asks, surprised. He did not think Frank would be ready for sex so soon after his incarceration.

Frank's hands move restlessly over Gerard's body, fingers pressing into his skin. “I think it is you who will have _me_.”

Gerard kisses him hard, biting at his lips, tasting his blood. Frank hisses against Gerard's mouth and rolls, pulling Gerard on top of him.

“You will be mine,” Gerard growls, not caring how it sounds.

Frank doesn't seem to mind, though, because he moans loudly and says, “ _Yes_.”

Gerard is not as careful this time around. This is a claiming, and by nature it has to be brutal. But still there is a tenderness to it; Gerard is tempered in his actions by his feelings for Frank. He wants to possess him, yes, but he also wants to bring him as much pleasure as possible.

Frank cries out when Gerard's fangs slice into his neck. Gerard drinks, moaning at the taste of vitality. It isn't quite the sharp tang of energy he remembers, but it is close. It is _Frank_.

Gerard licks the skin but does not heal it. The twin holes bleed sluggishly down into the sheets.

“Please, Gerard,” Frank says, squirming beneath him for friction. Gerard can feel his cock, hot and hard against his skin. He is leaking already, eager to be taken.

There is oil in the bedside table. Gerard purchased it the night after they met.

But that night is gone, and this night is upon them. Gerard gets the oil and slicks his fingers.

The fire is still burning in the hearth, and Frank's skin looks beautiful in the flickering light. Will Gerard ever get used to his beauty? Perhaps one day, but not now.

Frank remembers to push back against the intrusion, and Gerard's oiled fingers press inside him, stretching and taking and claiming.

Gerard takes his time, although he is as eager as a green boy to have his human. He growls at the noises Frank makes, low and lust-filled. He wants to hear more, so he crooks his fingers and presses against Frank's prostate.

Frank arches off the bed with a cry and then rocks back onto the fingers. His hands grip the sheets as he gasps out his pleasure.

When he is prepared, Gerard moves into position. He teases himself and Frank by just rubbing over Frank's hole with the tip of his cock, until Frank makes a noise of protest and begins to beg.

“Please, Gerard, please fuck me,” he says. Gerard is unused to such straightforward words, but he grips Frank's hips and obliges him.

The first thrust should have been slow, but this is a claiming, and Gerard must take Frank as his feral demands. Gerard pushes in fast, all at once, until he's buried deep inside Frank's body. He feels amazing: tight, grasping heat.

Frank gives a choked cry and his hands scramble to grab onto Gerard's shoulders. Gerard grips his hips bruisingly hard and thrusts in again and again, until Frank is rocking back, giving up his body completely. He stares up into Gerard's face, moaning obscenely. His eyes are wide and dark, full of wonder and lust.

It has been too long since Gerard has taken someone in this way, and his orgasm is approaching quickly. He wraps a hand around Frank's cock and strokes him fast and hard, nearly forcing Frank to come. He could, with his mind, but he wants it this way. Wants all of Frank's natural reactions.

Frank cries out and begs brokenly, “ _Please_...”

“Come for me,” Gerard growls, thrusting hard inside him.

Frank comes, clenching around Gerard, and that sends Gerard spiraling out of control. He snarls and pounds inside him, then stills as his own orgasm overtakes him.

Gerard takes little time to recover. He bites into his wrist and offers it to Frank, who takes it without question. “Just a swallow,” Gerard murmurs, and takes it back as soon as Frank has obeyed.

Frank's body goes rigid as the blood hits his system. He has already taken Gerard's blood before, and Gerard's not sure if this has any bearing. He knows it's not enough blood to turn Frank, but it will probably bind them together more closely than other claimed/vampire couples. Gerard doesn't mind that possibility.

Gerard lies on his back and waits for the blood to take effect. It does quickly, and Frank is crawling on top of him for more in a matter of minutes.

“So eager,” Gerard teases, but his own cock is already hardening again.

Frank tries a different position, moving until it feels natural, then takes Gerard's cock in his hand, lines up, and sinks down on it. Gerard groans and places his hands over the bruises on Frank's hips, pressing down a little with his fingertips. The pain causes pleasure, and Frank moans loudly. Then he begins to ride.

Gerard leans up for a kiss, and Frank takes his mouth with his own, kissing back desperately. Frank rises and falls, taking Gerard as deep as he can before lifting up and then doing it again. He clenches around Gerard when he finds that makes him growl, and soon Gerard is lifting him and pulling him back down on his cock fast and hard.

It's too much, but it's not enough. Gerard needs more, so he pushes Frank over onto his back and begins to pound inside him, relentless and seemingly insatiable. Frank cries out in pleasure as Gerard's cock thrusts against his prostate. It isn't part of the claiming, but Gerard leans forward and bites Frank again – in the shoulder, this time – and pulls blood into his mouth. Sex, blood, power: these are the things a vampire craves, and Frank is giving him all three.

Gerard fucks him unyieldingly, until Frank cries out and comes again. Gerard snarls and fucks him harder, until the headboard makes a hole in the plaster.

When he comes, his orgasm is so strong he blacks out.

*

They move into the old workhouse. Bob and Catherine have finished the master suite, and it is inviting and comfortable. Grand, fit for the Master of London and his consort.

Frank does not show any unease being around others. Gerard would have thought he would need time to become comfortable with other vampires and their human servants, but he settles into the life easily.

Cain and Lilith begin to bring in willing humans who are awed by Gerard and the court. They learn the ways quickly, and require little in the way of the mind arts. Gerard does make sure they feel pleasure when they are bitten, however. He does not know why he does this, why he cares for the humans other than because of their positions in his world.

His heart grows even softer towards Frank, and towards humans in general. When he goes out now, he picks off violent criminals, rapists and murderers.

When he comes back one night, Frank sits on a cushion at his feet in the throne room – Gerard does not know what else to call the former dining hall – and looks up at him. “I want to watch you hunt,” he says.

Gerard's mind recoils at the thought. “No,” he says simply.

Frank looks away and pouts. A moment later, he says, “Will you let me watch you feed?”

Gerard looks over at Bob, whose eyes are dancing. He wants to call Bob a filthy name for his amusement at the situation. “No.”

“Why not?” Frank asks. He leans his head against Gerard's knee and looks up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Gerard sighs and flicks his hand. A human comes forward quickly, bowing her head. Frank's heart rate picks up, and Gerard can smell lust coming off him. For the human? No, he finds when he touches Frank's mind. For him.

 _Do you like to think of me as dangerous?_ Gerard sends to Frank. _You know what I am._

 _You hide too much,_ Frank sends back.

Gerard searches Frank's mind and finds what he wants. It is almost unsettling. But Gerard looks at him with red eyes, his fangs extended, and sends, _I will do as you wish._ He only hopes Frank does not begin to hate him when he sees his true colors.

Gerard yanks the human forward, pressing on her mind, overwhelming her senses. She is young and excited, and as fresh as a daisy. She has never been bitten before, has only joined the court recently. Her fear mingles with her excitement, and the scent is delicious.

Gerard's hands are bruising on her wrists as he drapes her across his lap. She looks up into his face and her fear builds higher.

“Would you die for your Master?” Gerard asks in a low growl.

Panic finally takes hold of the chit and she struggles fruitlessly. Gerard pushes further into her mind, making his touch irresistible to her. She moans in pleasure as he tightens his grip on her wrists.

Gerard can feel everyone's eyes on him, and Frank presses closer, his breath quickening. He even reaches out and holds the girl's legs still. Gerard glances at his dark eyes and reads the excitement there.

He snarls and lunges for the girl's neck, fangs slicing through her skin messily. Blood drips from her throat to her bosom. Gerard doesn't latch on, instead he draws his tongue across the girl's skin, catching the rivulets of blood. He is careless – it does not matter to him if the girl bleeds out. Frank is enjoying himself and that is all that Gerard cares for at the moment.

“Don't kill her,” Frank whispers, and Gerard latches his mouth over the girl's wounds, sucking hard before healing her. She cries out, begging to be bitten again, but Gerard ignores her pleas.

Gerard sets the girl down on the floor and she writhes. He lulls her to sleep with his mind, then gently pulls out. She will remember this pleasantly, slightly ashamed at her wanton behavior. She will get over the latter, however, if she chooses to remain in the court.

Frank presses against Gerard's side, kissing his neck. “Take me to bed,” he says.

A titter of laughter comes over the room, and Gerard smiles. “No.”

“But-” Frank says.

“No,” Gerard says again, giving Frank a brutal kiss instead. “You can wait like a good boy until all my business is finished.”

He can feel the presence of another vampire at the door.

“What business?” Frank pouts. “You don't-”

But Bob feels the vampire, too, and he is making his way out of the throne room towards the entrance.

“Shh,” Gerard says, and orders Lilith to take the now-sleeping human to a bed. Gerard pushes Frank down into the chair at his left and straightens in his own.

Instead of Bob leading the vampire in, he trails behind him, smiling. Gerard can sense his happiness – he is projecting fiercely.

Gerard looks over the new vampire and feels a touch to his mind. It is almost familiar, and yet not. Gerard shields strongly, unused to being mind to mind with strangers.

He looks again to Bob. And then he understands.

Gerard stands and holds out his hand. The others in the room look on in confusion. Only Catherine seems to be at ease, and her own happiness is bright on her face.

“Brigh,” Gerard murmurs. “You are welcome in this court as the sire to my right hand.”

Brigh smiles brilliantly, and it takes Gerard off guard. He is a small man, and he wears clothing that looks as if he just stepped out of a fashion plate, pale colors all. He looks nothing like a vampire.

Except he exudes power. He nearly swamps Gerard's senses with it. Gerard has always been sensitive to power, ever since Azrael taught him to feel it. Now he wishes he never learned, because he can't _think_. He wants to go down on his knees for this vampire, to pledge his loyalty to him and him alone.

Brigh looks at him in understanding and then the power shifts away. Gerard can still feel it, but it does not overwhelm.

Regaining his composure, Gerard nods in gratitude.

“I have taken the name of Brian Schechter in this modern world,” Brigh says. “You may call me Brian.”

Gerard has studied many languages, and he knows that Schechter means 'slaughterer'. It makes him shiver, remembering the power. “Brian, then,” Gerard says. He forces his voice to come out evenly, though it wants to waver. He feels weak himself in comparison to this creature. “I am Gerard Way, Master of London.”

Brian smiles again, this time looking indulgent and friendly. “I was sleeping when you rose to power. My childe's excitement woke me.”

That makes Gerard smile. From what he knows, Bob doesn't show excitement. But he takes Brian's words and accepts them, understanding a sire's affinity for his childe.

With a wave of his hand, Gerard clears the room of humans. Frank and Catherine stay behind, however, and Cain knows enough to make himself scarce.

Brian kisses Catherine's hand and calls her by another name. She doesn't seem to mind, however. Gerard realizes uneasily that it is a name she held before this life. Brian knew her in the past.

Gerard pushes thoughts of past lives away and focuses on the present. He drops a hand to Frank's head and runs his fingers over the short hair there. It is growing, slowly, just as Frank is healing slowly. He is quicker to smile now, and his laugh is not unknown. Still, he has moments of quiet when he smells of misery. Gerard is always sure to kiss him out of such states.

“You have done well here,” Brian says to Gerard. “I would not have thought so young a vampire would take to ruling so fairly.”

Gerard almost laughs. He does not feel fair, or just, or anything a good leader should be. “I only do what I must.”

Perhaps it is too telling.

“You're a great Master,” Frank murmurs, turning his head into Gerard's hand like a favored pet.

Gerard doesn't need reassurance from his consort, he _doesn't_ , but the words make him feel better all the same.

He and Brian discuss the politics of the humans, the squalor of the rookeries, the asylums for the poor and mad. They talk of the ton, of the society that mostly ignores those in the lower classes.

Brian talks to Gerard as an equal, which is surprising. Ancients – in Gerard's mind, at least – are egocentric and sometimes insane. But perhaps Brian's long rests keep him grounded. Gerard finds him to be capable and tolerant of humans, not at all interested in ruling over them. Which is good, because Gerard has no interest in that either, nor will he allow anyone to suggest such a thing. It was the downfall of vampire courts, Azrael once told him, that feral superiority. War with humans had happened in the past, and it was up to vampires like Gerard to keep the wars from starting anew. It was part of being a good leader.

Brian points out that Gerard has the makings of a great ruler, and that he could name himself king if he wanted.

Gerard laughs. He has no use for such a title. Even 'Master' seems absurd at times, but it is what he must take on to keep order in London.

He tells Brian of the fledglings, of their sire's death or abandonment. Brian growls for the first time at the story. Gerard shivers at the sound, unaccountably turned on. He has one wild thought that he could offer himself to Brian, but he quickly dismisses it. He has no idea what problems that would cause with the others. He must think of Frank and Bob, both of whom could become jealous. Still, a persistent feeling pulls at him.

He looks into Brian's eyes and sees understanding and a hint of lust returned. Gerard swallows and looks away. He's never felt like this before, not since Azrael, and even then he did not have this absolute burning in him to submit and be taken. With his sire, it was warmth and affection, but this is something new.

Perhaps it is Brian's power he is drawn to, he thinks. That must be it.

He looks down at Frank, who is watching him closely. Gerard swallows and then leans down to kiss him. He's gentle with him, almost always, unable to let himself be as feral as he wants. Frank is too fragile, even with the claiming in effect which makes him stronger and _more_. He is still human. Breakable.

His traitorous mind reminds him that Brian would not break.

Bob clears his throat, and when Gerard looks at him, he sees that he is smiling faintly. “Brian and you have much to discuss, Master,” he says. “We will take our leave of you now.” He takes Catherine's hand in his and then nods towards Frank. “Come with us. We are going to the tailor, and you are in need of a new wardrobe.”

Gerard feels guilty that he has not supplied new clothing for Frank. He bought ready made for him, and shared his own wardrobe, but he did not think to have Frank outfitted in his own clothes.

Bob shoots him an exasperated look. “Stop that,” he says brusquely. “You've had plenty on your mind.” Frank follows him to the door, looking confused as he always does when Bob reads Gerard's mind and speaks aloud of what he finds.

Gerard must be projecting to the vampires in the room. Being with Brian set him off balance, and now-

Now they are left alone, and Brian is watching Gerard intently. Gerard shifts uncomfortably and leaves his chair to pace. It is unbecoming of a ruler, but they are in private and Brian probably knows his every thought anyway.

 _Not every thought,_ he hears in his head, and the touch of Brian's mind to his is smooth and cool, intimate in a way it just isn't with others.

“What is this?” Gerard asks in confusion, deliberately saying the words aloud.

Brian's whole body shifts, and he stalks closer like a feral cat. His muscles are tense and he looks ready to pounce at any moment. Fear and excitement run through Gerard's veins, making him feel wild himself.

“You don't remember,” Brian murmurs, the words oddly soft.

Gerard shakes his head. “I've never met you before.”

Brian is close now, so close that he has to tilt his head up to look into Gerard's face. His power is coiled around him like a thick spring. Gerard inhales, catching his scent. It is a powerful thing on its own, old blood, more ancient than anything Gerard has ever experienced.

Then Brian does an odd thing. He loosens his cravat and pulls it away, baring his neck. There are strange markings there, blue and black tattoos that seem familiar in the same way Brian seems familiar – though Gerard is sure he's never seen them before.

Brian tips his head back, exposing more of his throat. Gerard's fangs extend at the display, and then he is looking into Brian's glowing eyes in question.

“Drink from me, and you will remember,” Brian says.

Gerard knows he is speaking of a past life. His mind rebels, but something else in him screams _Yes._

He dips his head to brush his lips against Brian's marked skin. It is as smooth and cool as marble. Brian slides a hand into Gerard's hair and pulls his face closer. Gerard's fangs stab into Brian's neck, but Brian makes no sound. His mind, however, gives off the feeling of great pleasure and completeness.

Brian's blood is thick. Gerard swallows once, then twice, and he tastes colors. He closes his eyes and images flash before him. He knows, without a doubt, that they are memories.

 _See here_ , Brian says in his mind, helping him catch an image to examine.

Gerard falls forward. Brian catches him and lowers him to the floor, but Gerard barely registers the actions. He is too caught up in what he sees.

He sees himself, though not himself. He is looking into a stream. His hair is long and tangled, wild and unkempt. He is wearing little, just a bit of leather around his waist. His chest is lightly muscled, as are his arms. In one hand he holds a spear.

His name is Gearóid and he is meeting Brigh by the stream. He waits, but Brigh does not come. Instead, three of a neighboring clan arrive, and they stab him.

He is left for dead. Brigh comes as Gearóid lay dying. Brigh has been attacked, too, though he managed to kill off his would-be murderers. He gathers Gearóid in his arms, trying to pull him toward the village. It is too far, though, and they both know it.

They collapse in the woods, Gearóid in Brigh's arms. “The gods protected you,” Gearóid manages to say in a familiar language “You will do great things.”

But Brigh doesn't want to hear it. He calls out to their gods to heal his lover, but they do not heed his call.

Gearóid knows in his heart that they will meet again, in another life. Perhaps the gods will prepare a place for them both in the afterlife, or perhaps they will live other lives together as their souls are reborn.

The scene fades as Gearóid dies, though Gerard can still hear Brian's weeping.

It brings back memories of Gerard's human life, of praying to the Christian God to heal Michael. He shakes his head, his eyesight black. More memories press on.

Brigh, as a vampire, taking twins as his lovers. Gerard – no, that's not his name, but it will do for now – and...

Gerard gasps. _Michael_ , he thinks, grasping at the bright memory. The two of them are swimming in the nude under the moon as their vampire lover looks on. They kiss in the moonlight and turn to Brigh, who slips into the pond to join them.

Michael does not look like himself, but it is _him_. Gerard can see it in his eyes and hear it in his laugh. His soul lives inside this strange brother of his, achingly familiar.

The memory stops. Brian has pulled it back. Gerard jerks, trying to find it again, but Brian is holding him tightly and shushing him.

“Not too much,” he whispers.

“Michael,” Gerard calls out brokenly, struggling to free himself. It's been so long since he's seen his brother, and he wants more, no matter what earthly body Michael inhabited.

“Shh. You will see him again,” Brian promises. “Souls return to one another, just as you and I have found each other again.”

But Gerard wants him now. He is shaking, he realizes, shaking and crying. Brian holds him tightly against his small but strong body.

“I'm sorry,” Brian says. “I did not realize you would see so much so fast.”

“When will he come back to me?” Gerard asks plaintively.

Brian shakes his head. “I don't know. It's been centuries since I last saw you, and it has taken this long for us to be together again.”

His voice is sad, and Gerard realizes he was waiting for a different reaction. He did not expect Gerard to see Michael, wanted only to show himself.

“Did you wait for me?” Gerard asks, remembering Gearóid's death in Brigh's arms.

“I searched for you. Long and hard I searched, and I finally found you again in Rome with your brother. We were together for years, but...”

“I was killed again. No, that's not right,” Gerard says, searching his mind. “There was a mob...”

“A war between vampires and humans,” Brian says. “I had turned you both, but you were attacked in your lair during the day.”

Gerard shudders and Brian strokes his hair.

“It is over, now.”

“I barely remember,” Gerard whispers. “But where were you?”

“Caracalla – the emperor of the time – had me brought before him. I was tortured for his sport.” He says it in an even tone, but Gerard can feel the pain behind the words.

Gerard takes a breath and searches his memory for the history of Rome. Caracalla was emperor of Rome in the third century. So much time has passed. Brian is truly ancient.

“How did you escape?” he asks.

“Caracalla had me turn his ill mother. Julia. She rescued me; her love for her sire more than that of her torturing son.”

“Did you find me again after that?” Gerard asks.

“Yes. But I will let you remember on your own, as it should be.”

“How long has it been since we met last?”

Brian looks down. “It was the same year I turned Bob. A hundred years before this life of yours. You were just a child, so I would not turn you. I waited for you to grow older, but then there was war where you were. There had been for some time, but I thought you safe. You... you died before reaching your tenth birthday. There was nothing I could do.” His voice is sad and Gerard thinks it is good that Brian had Bob during that period. Bob would take care of him, keep him well.

Gerard can see clearly again, and he sees there is still some wetness on Brian's cheeks. Without thinking, Gerard leans forward and licks the tears away. They are cold and salty on his tongue. Brian swallows and then wraps his arms around Gerard more tightly.

“It's been so long,” he says, and Gerard doesn't know what to do. He wants so much, but his mind is reeling and tired.

“Just keep holding me,” Gerard says, and closes his eyes. Sleep claims him, and he barely feels Brian picking him up and taking him to bed.

*

He wakes to warmth. He stretches out and wraps his arm around the heat, knowing without looking that it is Frank there in bed with him. He doesn't open his eyes, just watches as flickers of dreams dissipate. He was dreaming of his brother again, of praying at his sickbed.

Before, there was only emptiness when he thought of Michael. Now that he knows the truth, hope has taken root.

“You're awake,” Frank murmurs, cuddling closer. “You've been asleep for a night and a day.”

Gerard finally opens his eyes. Frank is clinging more than usual. Gerard runs a hand over his hair and asks, “What's wrong?”

“Do you think you will ever love me?” Frank asks. The question is small and muffled against Gerard's chest.

“Where is this coming from?” Gerard asks, avoiding the question. He does not know how to think of love in this way. He is fond of Frank, he wants to be with him, he wants to make him happy and keep him well. The kind of love Frank is asking for is an unknown concept.

“You love Brian,” Frank says simply.

Gerard startles. “I don't,” he denies.

Frank leans back to look into his face, seemingly searching for something. “You do and you don't know it,” he says after long moments.

“I...” Gerard starts to say, then shakes his head when he doesn't know how to follow it.

But Frank, instead of moping, does the unexpected. He smiles warmly and hugs Gerard. “You need to be shown love,” he says.

Gerard thinks of the two people he loves: Azrael and Michael. He loves Azrael as his sire, as his teacher. He loves Michael as a brother.

No, more than that. He loves Michael as a part of himself. He remembers the life they led when they were twins and lovers, and his confusion grows. Does he love Michael in _that_ way? Or can he, in the future?

“I love you,” Frank whispers. The statement permeates Gerard's mind and he tries to say it back. The words do not come.

“I care for you,” he says instead. “And I will protect you.”

Frank smiles as if Gerard has spoken of love after all. “I know.”

It is too confusing. Gerard cuts off what else Frank might say with a kiss, gentle and caring. He doesn't know how to put his emotions into the action, but he tries. He sweeps his tongue into Frank's mouth slowly, then runs his hands down Frank's arms.

“I won't leave you,” Gerard promises. “There is no one who is going to take your place.”

“I've seen the way you look at him,” Frank whispers. “And I saw the way he held you while you were sleeping. It would be so easy to forget me and lose yourself in each other.”

Gerard shakes his head. “I can't explain what you are to me. I don't... I don't have the words yet. But please, remember this. I care for you more than I've cared for someone in centuries. I won't lose you. You're _mine_.”

Frank smiles a bit. “You usually say that with a growl.”

Laughing, Gerard pins Frank to the bed. He growls playfully and says, “All mine.”

“Yes,” Frank says, wriggling beneath him. “I'm yours.”

Gerard kisses him again, harder now. Frank returns it eagerly and Gerard tightens his hold on Frank's arms, pinning him harder. “What do you want?” he asks roughly. He rarely asks, because Frank likes to do what Gerard wants. But this time, Gerard needs to give something back.

Frank tips his head back and smiles. “Drink from me.”

A night and a day, that's how long it's been since Gerard has fed, but the hunger in him grows now as if it's been weeks. He feels starved for Frank, eager to possess him in every way.

“You wouldn't think red eyes would be so sexy,” Frank whispers, staring into Gerard's face.

Gerard dips his head to press his tongue to Frank's strong pulse. It quickens at the touch and Gerard growls again before sinking his fangs into the vein. It's dangerous to tap the source like this, but it's been days since Gerard has fed from Frank and the claim makes him resilient.

Blood pumps into Gerard's mouth with every beat of Frank's heart. It is hot and tastes, Gerard thinks, like sunlight. Some night in the future, Gerard will turn Frank and he will lose the heat and the pounding sound of Frank's heart. Not tonight, however. Not for a very long time. Gerard will protect his human and keep him well, feeding and fucking and caring for him. It will more than do for now.

“ _Oh_ ,” Frank breathes, clutching at Gerard's hair. Gerard moans and then pulls back to seal the marks. Gerard kisses the bruised skin lightly, reverently.

“Have I ever told you that you taste exquisite?” Gerard murmurs.

“Yes,” Frank says. “Often. Just like you tell me I'm beautiful.” He giggles. “That doesn't mean you shouldn't tell me, though.”

Gerard smiles and drags his lips down to the hollow of Frank's throat. “I'll keep telling you until you beg me to stop.”

Frank holds on to Gerard, his arms strong around his shoulders. “I meant what I said, Gerard. I love you.”

“Thank you,” Gerard says. “I am... blessed to have you.” God or the gods and goddesses or the universe – whatever force is out there – _something_ beyond Gerard's understanding has given Frank to him. He holds the secret of the Ieros' death close to his chest, not even thinking of it if he can help it. He wants, no, _craves_ Frank's love. He will not go without it.

“What are you thinking of?” Frank asks, tugging gently on their connection. It is a rudimentary tug, but effective nonetheless. It reminds Gerard of the bond they share, and he carefully blocks off the part of his mind that holds the memories of Frank's parents' death.

“Why?” Gerard asks. “Did you sense something?”

Frank nods. “It's still too new for me to understand, though. I know your happiness, that I can pick up on. And your desire, I can feel that.”

Gerard projects a wave of lust at Frank and smiles. “Like that?”

Frank gasps and nods again. “You want me.”

“I always want you.”

“No,” Frank says suddenly. “Sometimes you want something I can't give you.”

 _Brian_ , Gerard thinks, and remembers the aura of power around the vampire that calls to him. His soul wants to be with him, too, but Gerard has little understanding of that. He knows power and desire, so he thinks of Brian in that way instead of in another.

“You're thinking of him,” Frank whispers.

Gerard closes his eyes and tries to close his mind. He can feel Brian downstairs, can sense he knows exactly what Gerard is doing and feeling. “I can't help myself.”

“I'm not jealous,” Frank says slowly. “I want you to be happy.”

Gerard is not sure Brian can bring him happiness in the way Frank is using the word. Ecstasy, yes. Fulfillment, absolutely. But peace of mind? Contentment? Brian seems to be the opposite of these things. Brian would overwhelm him, keep him wanting more. Gerard knows this without even thinking too hard about it.

“We... we knew each other. Before,” Gerard tries to explain.

“He was your lover?”

Gerard nods and rests his head against Frank's shoulder. “In another life. Other _lives_.”

Frank is silent for a few moments. “There is more to it than that. You didn't know that when you first met him, and I read your feelings then. I didn't even have to read them; it showed plain on your face.”

He is only human, he can't sense the power of an ancient vampire. Gerard doesn't know how to describe something he just knows. “It's because he's powerful.”

“You're powerful,” Frank points out.

“Compared to Brian, I'm an infant,” Gerard says wryly. “Like Cain or Lilith.”

Frank giggles. “I heard Lilith call Cain 'Georgie'.”

Their names are just too perfect; of course they're made up. Gerard has just never cared enough to ask them about it.

“So it's his power you want?” Frank asks.

Gerard begins to say, “I want...” but he trails off, not sure how to put this. “If I were human, I'd want to be claimed by him.”

“You want to submit to him,” Frank states boldly.

If Gerard was still able to blush, he'd be doing it right now. “Yes,” he admits. “But not without a fight.”

“And it's the fight I can't give you,” Frank says with insight.

“Do you mind?” Gerard asks. He rolls onto his back and sighs. “The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

“I understand better now,” Frank says with a shrug. “And I know he won't take my place.”

Gerard stares at him. “How do you know? I mean, it's true, but...”

“You told me,” Frank says, and moves to straddle him. Gerard slides his hands up Frank's thighs to rest at his hips. The bruises there are fading, and Gerard wants to make them bloom again.

“No one will ever take your place,” Gerard says softly.

“I want to ride you,” Frank says, grinding down against him.

Gerard's cock twitches with interest. “Prepare yourself first.”

Frank smiles and gets the oil. He slicks his fingers with it, then reaches between his legs.

He is _beautiful_ , Gerard thinks. He's everything a lover should be. His body arches as he takes his own fingers, and his head lolls back. Gerard looks with pride at the marks at his neck, the sign of his claiming. He growls low when Frank moans in pleasure.

After he has prepared himself, Frank sinks down on Gerard's cock slowly. He squeezes around it when he's fully seated, and Gerard tightens his grip on Frank's hips.

Slowly – gods, must he go so slow? – Frank fucks himself on Gerard's cock. His eyes are shut tight in concentration, and Gerard touches his mind lightly, connecting them so that Frank can feel the edge of Gerard's desire.

Frank moans and rocks up and down faster. His hands are planted firmly on Gerard's chest as he moves.

 _I need you_ , Gerard sends him gently, holding back his passion. He is always careful with Frank, although he wants to overwhelm and own him.

Frank opens his eyes and stares at Gerard as he rocks. “You can take me, you know. Anytime you need.”

Gerard growls and rolls, shoving Frank beneath him. Frank likes it a little rough, and it appeases part of Gerard to do this. Frank's legs are drawn up to his chest, and Gerard thrusts hard – but not too hard – inside him. Frank gasps and moans loudly, uninhibited.

“Is this what you wanted?” Gerard growls.

Frank gasps again. “Oh God, yes, fuck me...”

Gerard does. There is no other word for it. He lets a bit of his feral side free and fucks Frank like he's begging to be fucked, hard and fast, until Gerard worries that it's too much. But Frank gasps, “More!” and Gerard's worry evaporates.

Gerard positions Frank's legs around his shoulders so he has better access, then turns his head and bites Frank's thigh. His fangs miss the femoral artery by scant inches, and Frank cries out in pleasure from the pain. Gerard swallows and licks at the blood, fucking Frank harder until Frank gasps in something other than desire.

Gerard is unable to still and give his apologies. He is too caught up in the blood and sex. He uses Frank's body brutally, and snarls when he comes.

Frank pants beneath him, and Gerard only then has the presence of mind to heal his thigh. Gerard swallows, looking down at Frank's wide eyes.

“I'm so-”

“Don't,” Frank says hoarsely.

Gerard does not know what to do, other than express his regret. “Did I hurt you?” He knows he did.

“Not much,” Frank says and tries to smile. It's just a crook of his lips that immediately turns downward again.

Gerard growls in warning. “Don't lie to me.”

Frank winces and shifts uncomfortably. “You hurt me. It's my fault. I told you to fuck me...”

“It's _not_ your fault,” Gerard says, kissing his forehead. “Roll over.”

Frank does so with a dubious look. Gerard parts his cheeks carefully and sees the pink-tinged come leaking from his ass. He hisses at the sight. “I'm sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Frank murmurs.

Gerard licks at Frank's stretched hole, gathering blood and come on his tongue. He stifles a moan at the first taste. He licks and sucks, using his saliva to heal. Frank wriggles and pushes back against Gerard's mouth, and Gerard can smell his desire coming back.

“Touch yourself,” Gerard says lowly. Frank does and lets out a low groan.

Gerard is so careful now, only introducing one spit-slick finger when he's sure Frank has healed. He pushes in slowly, then brushes against Frank's prostate.

Frank moans and rocks back, gripping his pillow. The lines from his back down to his legs are beautiful, Gerard thinks, looking over his body. The skin is lightly bruised, and there are bigger bruises at his hips, and a large one on the inside of his thigh. Gerard likes the marks, likes that he put them there. He is regretful that he hurt Frank more than he wanted, though. He will have to keep his head in the future, no more letting his feral side out to play.

Not with Frank, at any rate.

“Faster,” Gerard orders, and Frank obeys, his hand stroking over his cock with greater speed.

Gerard nips Frank's buttock with blunt teeth, barely hard. Frank moans and strokes himself harder.

“You're so good for me,” Gerard says, then presses against Frank's prostate again.

Frank moans and comes, spurting his release into the sheets. “ _Gerard_ ,” he pants out.

Lying down beside him, Gerard gathers Frank into his arms. Frank clings, still panting.

“I'm sorry,” Gerard whispers again.

Frank smiles tiredly. “You made it up to me.”

“I can't make it up to you,” Gerard says, feeling guilty even though his darker nature tells him he's done nothing wrong. “And I can't promise it won't happen again.”

“I love you,” Frank says. “I accept what and who you are.”

He wouldn't if he knew what Gerard did to his family.

“I don't deserve your love,” Gerard says softly into Frank's hair, but Frank is already asleep.

*

Gerard hunts with Bob for the first time. Gerard hasn't hunted with someone else since Azrael left him. He finds he's missed it. The thrill is that much greater when you have someone to share it with.

After they feed, Bob is wiping his mouth when he says, “Brian told me about you.”

Gerard blinks and drops the corpse he is holding. “Told you what? When?”

“He's always told me of you, before you were even born,” Bob says. “Although he always speaks of you as Gearóid.”

A memory twinges in his mind and Gerard nods. “I remember a bit of that life.”

“It's always odd when you first remember,” Bob says.

It has been more than odd. It has been unsettling. All Gerard thought he knew is wrong. “Yes,” he says.

Bob gives him an understanding look. “Do you need to talk about it?”

Gerard shakes his head. “No, I was … I want to talk about something else.”

Bob sits on the stoop of an abandoned house and nods for him to continue.

“You have a human lover,” Gerard begins uncomfortably. “How do you... I mean...”

“How do I keep from hurting her?” Bob asks.

Gerard nods mutely.

“You hurt Frank,” Bob says, but his tone is not judging. “I knew something was wrong between you.”

“It was like I couldn't help myself,” Gerard admits. “And I couldn't stop, not even after I realized he wasn't enjoying himself any longer.”

Bob whistles low. “I can't say I've ever had that problem.”

“How could you not?” Gerard asks, genuinely perplexed.

Bob shakes his head. “You and Brian, you both have a darkness in you that I don't have.”

“I thought it was something all vampires had,” Gerard says.

“Brian has embraced the darkness over the centuries, and you... you have lost touch with your humanity.”

Gerard frowns. “I'm not human. I'm a damned vampire, Bob.”

Bob sighs. “You have the capability to feel everything a human feels. You've just lost that somewhere along the way.”

“I still don't understand,” Gerard says, shaking his head. “And this doesn't help me with my problem. I don't want to hurt Frank again.”

“I'll put it simply, Gee,” Bob says, reverting to the old nickname. “If you allow yourself to love Frank, you won't be so eager to hurt him.”

“I'm not _eager_ to inflict pain on my consort,” Gerard says, stung.

“Really?” Bob asks. “Because from where I'm sitting, that's what it looks like.”

“What does love have to do with my vampire side?” Gerard asks.

“Love will temper the darkness,” Bob says simply.

Gerard mulls that over and then says, “I don't know if I'm capable of loving Frank.”

“Because he's human?” Bob asks.

Gerard runs a hand through his hair. “I don't know. Maybe.”

Perhaps he doesn't know how to love anymore. Perhaps that side of him died with Michael.

But Michael's soul lives on, and so does Gerard's love for him. Michael is human, wherever he is, with a human's wants and needs. Gerard shakes his head. He doesn't know what to think anymore.

Something in the air shifts, and both Gerard and Bob stiffen at the same time.

 _Do you recognize him?_ Gerard sends.

“No,” Bob whispers, crouching in front of him. Protecting him, Gerard realizes.

The power from the vampire is strong. He is old, though not as old as Brian. Perhaps as old as Azrael.

The vampire strolls into view, looking for all the world unperturbed at Bob and Gerard's presence. His red eyes flick from Bob, dismissing him as a threat, to Gerard.

“I am Vratis,” he says, leaning against the stoop across from them. His body is tense, though he tries to hide it. “So you are the great Master of London, are you?”

Gerard pulls himself up to his full height and nods. “I am. My name is Gerard.”

“Yes, yes, Gerard Way,” Vratis says with a flick of his hand. “I have done my research on you.”

“Why do you come here instead of introducing yourself at court?” Bob asks, but Vratis ignores him as if he never spoke.

“I have come for your head,” Vratis says to Gerard. “And to establish myself as King.”

Gerard wants desperately to roll his eyes. King, really? It sounds so ridiculous. Almost as bad as Master.

“You will not come closer,” Bob says, pulling a wooden stake from his topcoat. Gerard nearly startles; he was not aware Bob went around armed.

“That paltry stick will not harm me,” Vratis says in a bored tone. It's affected, Gerard can tell. Vratis has suddenly become more nervous. “I was not counting on a bodyguard, though. Can you not protect yourself, Mr. Way?”

“That's Master to you,” Bob snarls. “Show some respect before you meet your end.”

Vratis snaps at the air like an animal, then bounds towards them. Bob crashes into him in a blur, stabbing him in the chest. Vratis stills for a moment, then removes the stake. It must have missed the heart.

“You will both die this night,” Vratis growls, and lunges again, toward Gerard this time.

There is no time to think, only to act. Gerard has never killed another vampire before, has been repulsed by the idea in the past. But this is a kill or be killed scenario, and Gerard reaches out.

His hand tears through fabric and flesh. At his side, Bob removes one of Vratis's arms from its socket.

Vratis screams, but Gerard is not through yet. Without another thought, Gerard _pulls_ , both with his mind and his hand.

And Vratis crumples to the ground, still screaming.

Gerard looks at Bob, sees his wide eyes, and then looks down at his hand. He is holding Vratis's black heart there. It is a small, ill-used thing, very nearly rotten. Gerard squeezes it in his palm and it turns to dust.

Vratis is dead.

Gerard crumples.

*

“I've got to stop doing things like that,” Gerard moans as he comes awake the next night. His head is sore, his mind in disarray.

He feels a gentle hand in his hair. Brian. Gerard opens his eyes and looks up at him, smiling faintly.

“Frank is gone,” Bob says from across the room.

Gerard sits up, holding his head. Brian helps him and stuffs a pillow behind his back for him to lean on.

“What do you mean he's gone?” Gerard asks.

“He wasn't here when we got back,” Bob says.

“I thought he was in here, but he wasn't,” Brian says.

“You didn't feel him go?” Gerard asks, but feels foolish immediately after. Of course they wouldn't feel a random human leave. No one but Gerard has that connection with him.

Gerard closes his eyes and feels for Frank, but his mind is too muzzy to find him.

“Stop,” Brian commands. “You'll wear yourself out again. That was some impressive mind magic you did to your enemy, tearing his heart out.”

Gerard cannot help but feel a little proud of himself for that feat. It was easy enough to tear out a human heart with a bare hand, but to do it to a vampire required what Brian called magic.

“I must find him,” Gerard says.

“I'll look for him,” Bob says.

“Why didn't you before this?” Gerard asks mulishly.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were well, first,” Bob says sternly. It is enough to make Gerard nod and give him a look of apology.

Bob leaves.

Gerard looks at Brian. “I hurt Frank.”

“He forgave you,” Brian says.

“How do you know?” Gerard asks.

“I just do,” Brian says. “That isn't why he left.”

Gerard frowns and lies back on the bed, closing his eyes. “Do you know why, then?”

“No. I wish I did.”

*

Bob comes back with empty arms. He has an idea and a lead, though.

“He hired a coach to take him to Derbyshire,” Bob says.

Gerard's heart seizes up. “No,” he breathes.

Frank has somehow found out the truth, else he's gone to find his parents for some unknown reason. No, that makes no sense. Frank wouldn't leave without something being wrote. He found out.

He found out.

A quick scan of the house and Gerard finds the answer. Loose lips, idle court gossip, and Frank must have overheard.

Gerard gets out of bed and dresses. Brian and Bob look on, and Bob tells him not to follow.

“I have to do this,” Gerard says.

“Then I'll come with you,” Brian says.

Gerard looks at him sharply, but Brian's gaze is resolute.

Brian is faster than Gerard, but he slows down to Gerard's pace, which is slower than usual. Gerard is still tired and worn, and halfway to Derbyshire, Brian takes Gerard into his arms and carries him the rest of the way.

They arrive before Frank at the burnt out shell of the Ieros' home.

“You did this?” Brian asks as he sets him down.

Gerard nods, not saying a word.

“You must have had good reason.”

“I thought I did at the time,” Gerard says. “Now, though...” He thinks back on that night, of the Contessa's face when she showed Gerard the attic room. He thinks about the bare mattress on the floor and the blood-scribbles on the walls.

She deserved to die.

But not at Frank's expense.

Brian and Gerard stand together in the rain, waiting. It was raining that night too, Gerard remembers.

He shivers and presses closer to Brian. “I have lost my humanity,” he says. Not mournfully, because he does not feel the loss. He says it plainly, without adornment. He is not human, but that doesn't mean he has to act like an animal.

“I'll help you find it again,” Brian whispers and presses a kiss to Gerard's cheek.

The coach arrives and Frank steps out. He soaks himself in the rain, walking up the path to the shell of the house. He doesn't see Gerard or Brian yet.

Gerard feels fear. He doesn't want to face Frank. Brian picks up on it and holds him closer for a moment, then walks away to leave Gerard to face Frank alone.

The instant Frank sees Gerard, he freezes. Then he points towards the house and yells over the sound of thunder, “You did this, Gerard!”

Gerard can't tell what he's feeling. He opens his mind and gently touches Frank's.

Frank is half-mad with grief. Family is, Gerard knows in that moment, everything to Frank.

They loved him. They hated him. They locked him away, but they _loved_ him. They were his parents, and Frank loved them back.

And Gerard took them away.

“I will never forgive you, Gerard!” Frank screams. “Do you hear me?”

Yes, Gerard hears him. He just cannot believe him. Gerard is desperate to make Frank see what happened, to understand why.

Gerard moves quickly, grabbing Frank's arms and staring into his face. He pushes with his mind, pushes his memories and emotions into Frank's thoughts.

But Frank recoils from the memories, reeling backwards. Gerard catches him, but Frank struggles to get away.

“You fucking bastard,” Frank says brokenly, tears of rage in his eyes. “You think you did it for me.”

“I did,” Gerard says, still holding him.

“Let me go!” Frank says, and Gerard does. Frank stumbles and falls back into the mud.

“Frank, please,” Gerard says. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry this hurts you. I never ever meant to hurt you.”

Frank shakes his head and laughs, hysterical. “You shit-eating son of a bitch.”

“Come back with me,” Gerard pleads.

“Never,” Frank says. “I never want to see you again.”

“You said you loved me. That you accepted me,” Gerard says, his heart breaking.

“I do love you,” Frank whispers. Gerard barely hears him over the rain. “But I can't accept this. Not this.”

“Please,” Gerard says again.

But Frank is getting up and walking back towards the coach.

Gerard knows he can force Frank to return to London with him. He could place him under thrall. He could physically make him do as Gerard wants. But those things seem repugnant to him. He never wants to force Frank to do anything against his will. He just wants Frank, whole and in love with him, to stay.

But Frank is leaving. Forever.

The coach rolls out of sight. Gerard stands there in the rain and watches the space where it disappeared. Strong arms wrap around him, and he turns his face into Brian's neck.

“I've lost him,” Gerard murmurs.

Brian just holds him tighter.

*

Weeks pass, and Frank does not return. Gerard is morose, only barely going through the motions. Bob brings him his meals, and Brian holds him while he sleeps.

It is Catherine who finally snaps Gerard out of it.

“You are Master of London! Stop this pouting of yours. You have lost someone, it's true, but you have responsibilities. You have people who rely on you.”

It's true. More humans have come under Gerard's wing in the past few weeks that he would have ever imagined. And vampires have come, too, from the country to see the Master and participate in the court.

Gerard has to give them more of himself. He can't be seen like this.

Frank is not the only person he has lost in his lifetime. He will get through this.

Time passes. Brian is strangely aloof. Gerard is too busy to notice at first, and then when he does, he doesn't question. Perhaps Brian saw what Frank saw – a monster.

Two months after Frank leaves, Gerard visits Brian in his bedchamber.

Brian looks up, his eyes questioning. “Yes?”

Gerard comes closer. Brian has been sitting in front of the fire, warming himself.

“Do you believe in hell?” Gerard asks.

“I believe in an otherworld,” Brian says.

Gerard shakes his head. “I mean a place where the wicked are made to suffer.”

“Ah,” Brian says.

“Is it a sin, what I did to Frank's family?” Gerard asks.

“Frank believes so,” Brian says.

“What do you believe?” Gerard asks.

Brian holds out a hand and inclines his head. Gerard moves forward slowly, not knowing what to expect.

“I believe we all make mistakes,” Brian says. “And then we move on from them. Learn from them. Do you think I have never done anything monstrous in my lifetime?”

Brian's hand is warm from the fire. It feels almost human. Gerard curls his fingers around Brian's, squeezing tightly. He feels as if he needs a good cry.

“Why have you not taken me to bed?” Gerard asks softly.

Brian smiles and pulls Gerard closer. “Because I do not want to be second best. And I would be, while you mourned the loss of your consort.”

“I am done mourning,” Gerard says, and moves closer.

“You want me to make you forget,” Brian says.

It is true, on one level, but then on another... “I want _you_.”

Brian growls and pulls Gerard into his arms, then nearly throws him to the bed. Gerard gasps at the abrupt action, staring up at Brian.

“I have waited too long for you,” Brian says, his eyes glowing red. He unleashes his power and it swamps Gerard's senses.

Gerard closes his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling. It seems to seep through his skin like a physical thing, but he can feel it in his blood, too. He feels it in his head as Brian's cool mind touches his, and he can do nothing but cling to Brian.

 _Remember_ , Brian whispers in his mind, pulling at the buried memories in Gerard's subconscious.

Gerard gasps as he remembers Brigh and Gearóid's first coupling. It was wild, _they_ were wild, as uninhibited as two humans could be.

He remembers love. So much love between them, as bright as the sunlight Gerard hasn't seen in centuries. Gerard wants to weep from the memory, it is so powerful. He feels so much love for Brian, love he didn't think himself capable of.

Before, the memories were only mere glimpses, but this is so much more. He doesn't see things happening, he _feels_. He feels Brigh's – Brian's – strong hands on him, he feels the bite of his human teeth and the sweep of his tongue. Or is this happening now? Gerard doesn't know if this is memory or reality.

He opens his eyes and meets Brian's intense gaze. “I remember. I feel. I-” _I love you_ , he finishes in his mind. He knows that Brian will hear him.

Brian slides his hand to Gerard's throat and holds him there, not too hard but not gently, either. He kisses him them, hard and demanding.

Gerard lets out a strangled gasp against Brian's mouth. He is overloaded with pleasure, and they have barely begun. He wonders if he will come before he is touched. It is not outside the realm of possibilities – his cock is hard and twitching like a live thing.

Brian undresses him fast, tearing the clothing from Gerard's body. The fabric rips loudly under Brian's hands, and soon Gerard lies bare like a ritual offering beneath him.

“Gods, you're gorgeous,” Brian says, making Gerard squirm under his gaze.

Then Brian leans down and sucks at Gerard's neck. Gerard remembers now, remembers that Brian sired him once. He wishes that Brian found him first in this lifetime, and that Azrael did not. But that is traitorous, and he feels ashamed for even thinking it. His sire is his sire, and that cannot change. But Brian is something else, their bond even stronger than that which Gerard shares with Azrael.

Gerard tips his head back to give Brian better access. “Bite me,” he breathes. “Please, Bri...”

Brian's fangs are razor sharp, slicing through Gerard's flesh like knives. He sucks Gerard's blood from his veins like marrow from a bone. He moans at the taste. Is he lost in his own memories? Does he wish...

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that their bodies and minds are pressed together, feeding from one another. Gerard slides a hand into Brian's hair and holds him there at his neck as he feeds.

'Love is patient, love is kind,' Gerard remembers. But this love is heady and rushed, too brutal to be what the apostle Paul wrote of. This is a love beyond human comprehension, the love of two vampires.

Brian's mouth is bloody as it crashes into Gerard's. Fangs slice at Brian's lips. Their blood mingles and the taste explodes on Gerard's tongue. He moans and arches up beneath Brian's, his body begging for more pain and passion.

Hands roam over Gerard's body, pinching and kneading his flesh. Brian twists Gerard's nipples and then lowers his mouth to them. The sensation is like fire spreading through him, and Gerard moans loudly.

Oil comes from somewhere, retrieved or conjured, Gerard doesn't care. It is warm on his skin and it drips over his cock, down his balls, over his thighs, between his legs. Then Brian's hands are moving over his skin again, slick and powerful.

Brian opens Gerard's body with strong fingers, preparing the way for his cock. Gerard is surprised he can think to be so considerate. Gerard is senseless with desire himself; thinking rationally is beyond his capabilities at the moment.

Gerard writhes under Brian's fingers, rocking onto them, pushing them deeper. He is impatient for more. He pulls at Brian, nearly fighting with him for his cock, and Brian growls low in his throat before thrusting hard inside.

Gerard wraps his legs high on Brian's back and tilts his hips, taking Brian deeper. Brian groans and thrusts again and again, slamming inside Gerard. The room is filled with noise: the loud slap of skin on skin and soft snarling from Brian. Gerard cries out as each thrust comes harder than the last.

The headboard crashes into the wall, its wooden slats splintering. Plaster dust is in the air as the wall itself crumbles under the pounding. Gerard feels as if he's falling apart himself.

An oiled hand wraps around Gerard's cock and he moans, rocking into the friction. He's trapped between the two sensations of rutting cock and squeezing hand. He's frenzied now, writhing and arching up, digging his nails into Brian's shoulders.

“More,” he begs, and Brian fucks him harder.

One hand is on Gerard's cock and then the other is at Gerard's mouth. Brian offers his wrist, and Gerard grabs it and bites down. Thick, ancient blood pours into his mouth and he moans around the broken skin. It would be ecstasy by itself, but added to every other sensation it throws Gerard over the edge, shoving him into the liquid fire of his orgasm. Their minds are so connected that the feeling of Gerard's release triggers Brian's own, and together they tense and then collapse.

They hold each other after, both of them gasping for unneeded air. Gerard nuzzles at Brian's neck and Brian holds him tighter.

“I've been so long without you,” Brian says. Then sends, _You are a miracle to me._

Gerard understands that love words come easier to Brian when he does not have to speak aloud. Gerard sends Brian a wave of affection and love, showing him his feelings are returned.

Brian sighs and runs his hand through Gerard's hair. They shift on the bed until they're on their sides, just watching each other's faces. They're quiet on the outside, but their minds send to each other feelings and half-jointed sentences.

 _You are amazing,_ one of them thinks, and Gerard isn't sure which of them is speaking. Their minds are so entwined that Gerard doesn't know where he ends or begins.

Gerard feels the dawn approaching and he yawns, then rests his head against Brian's chest. No heart beats there, but the act still brings him comfort.

“How long did you sleep when you went underground?” Gerard asks sleepily.

“Only a few decades,” Brian says. “I hadn't planned on sleeping long; I was still searching for you.”

Gerard smiles and closes his eyes. “And now you've found me.”

Brian runs his fingers through Gerard's hair. “Yes. I have.”

Gerard hopes he was worth waiting for.

 _You were_ , Brian sends. Gerard smiles and drifts off. He feels Brian disconnect from his mind as he falls asleep, too.

*

The chair to Gerard's left stays empty. Gerard does not want to seek out another consort. When he has sex, it is with Brian, or – rarely – with Catherine and Bob. Lilith offers herself to him, but she is like a child to him, impetuous and fickle.

He misses Frank, keeps an eye on him from afar, but does not initiate contact. He accepts that Frank is gone.

Enemies appear, some of them more ruthless and aged than Vratis. Gerard fights them all, until they get smarter.

The next June, at a human ball, Catherine is attacked. Not killed, but she is scarred and frightened. Bob is not with her at the time, and she has no one to protect her. No vampire to heal her, not until the damage has been done.

Gerard bears much guilt over her attack. He should have known better. No one who is close to him is safe.

Catherine recuperates at Black House, which is what the court has begun to call their renovated former workhouse. She does not want visitors. She barely allows Bob to see her. She hides her face beneath a veil, ashamed of her scars.

Gerard can smell her misery and does his best to cheer her. He appoints human servants to tend to her needs, and hires a chef to make delicious food so she will continue to eat.

Catherine picks at her food and sends back full plates.

Brian comforts Bob. Gerard tells himself he isn't jealous of the attention.

They do not know who has done this to Catherine. Bob and Brian set out to (carefully) comb London until they find the one responsible.

Gerard understands that Bob needs to think of only revenge, else he'll tear himself apart in grief over Catherine's attack. Brian understands him more than Gerard does, and whatever they talk about in the night makes the tense lines of Bob's face ease.

Then one night, when Gerard goes to check on Frank, he cannot find him. He searches with all his mind, but it is like Frank is dead.

 _NO._

He can not, _will_ not, accept that.

He searches harder, his mind reaching out beyond the normal borders. He feels a hand at the small of his back – Brian has felt something and came to him when he was needed.

“I can't find Frank,” Gerard murmurs.

“I sense someone,” Brian says. “Someone powerful, but they are blocking my mind.”

Gerard closes his eyes and tries to feel, and – yes, there is someone here. No, to the north. Someone ancient.

“They've … taken Frank,” Gerard says, looking at Brian with fear in his eyes. He's afraid to say the word _killed_.

“Can you sense him at all?” Brian asks.

Gerard shakes his head. “Why would someone do this?” he asks. “First the attack on Catherine and now this?”

“It is you they are after,” Brian says. “It's the only thing that makes sense.”

“No one is safe around me,” Gerard says. “What about you and Bob?”

“Bob and I can take care of ourselves,” Brian tells him. “Don't worry about us. The others will have to be protected, however.”

Dozens of humans and young vampires have come to live and serve at the Black Court. Gerard is responsible for their health and safety. With a new enemy out there, he feels this responsibility even more strongly.

“We must find this vampire who seeks to destroy you,” Brian says somberly. “We must put an end to this.”

Gerard nods and rests back against Brian, his mind reaching out beyond the borders of the city, to the north. He focuses all his being on finding the source of the power he feels.

North, and further.

“Yorkshire?” Gerard murmurs.

“Farther than that, I think,” Brian says. “You won't find them like that, you're going to strain yourself.”

“Add your mind to mine, then,” Gerard says irritably.

Brian does not argue, just lends his mind to Gerard. At first, the power is nearly overwhelming, but Brian does not seek to overpower him, merely help and add to Gerard's already impressive art.

 _Magic_ , something whispers on the wind.

Gerard sends his mind flying out over the countryside. Below him pass trees and homes and hills. Here, and horse. There, a pasture of cattle. On and on he goes, searching out the source of power.

 _There_.

Northumberland.

Gerard sends his mind to the west, to the Cheviot hills, but finds nothing. No, it is to the east, in Bamburgh. The power shines brightest there. He senses something else, someone human...

It is too much. He sags against Brian, his mind too stretched to do more. “Frank,” he gasps. “Frank's alive.”

“I felt him,” Brian murmurs. “Shh. Sleep.”

Gerard blacks out.

*

He wakes in his chamber at Black House. Brian is talking quietly with Bob in front of the empty fireplace. Gerard keeps his eyes closed and listens.

“...Lilith is beside herself,” Bob says. “I'm thinking of sending her and Catherine away.”

“That might be best,” Brian says, and then turns to Gerard. “You've been sleeping for three nights.”

Gerard opens his eyes. Of course Brian would know when he woke. “What's happened?”

“A vampire attacked Cain and killed him,” Brian says. “Bob was able to stop him before he got to the others.”

“Does he still live?” Gerard growls. Cain was loyal and had served well in the past year. He was learning – slowly, but steadily – to be a proper vampire. Although Gerard had not adopted him, he still felt responsible for him.

And now Cain is gone. Lilith, Gerard is sure, will grieve long and hard.

“Yes. We have him chained in the cellar,” Bob says.

“Is he talking?” Gerard asks, sitting up on the bed and looking around for a pair of trousers.

Brian takes a suit of clothes from the wardrobe and helps Gerard dress. “He says only that his sire wants revenge on the Master of London.”

“Revenge for what?” Gerard asks. “I've done nothing.”

“There is another thing,” Brian says slowly as he ties Gerard's cravat into a Mathematical knot. “The vampire – his name is Jacob – smells... familiar.”

“Do you know him?” Gerard asks.

“No,” Brian says. “But he is family.”

Gerard stares. “That must be a mistake.”

Brian shakes his head. “I know the scent of my own blood.”

“Then who is he? Who is this sire of his?” Gerard asks, grabbing his hessian boots.

“I do not know. I have sired many in my lifetime,” Brian says.

Gerard finishes dressing quickly, then makes his way downstairs to the cellar. It is damp down here and smells of creeping mold and old blood. Bob has already done a job on Jacob, and the enemy vampire hasn't fed. He is half-stripped and not healing, starving for blood.

“Tell me the name of your sire,” Gerard orders, pushing his mind on Jacob.

Jacob laughs, high and hysterical. His eyes are red, but they do not glow with power, not anymore. He's been starved and bled too much. “I'll tell you nothing.”

“Let me,” Brian says, stepping forward.

Fear twinges Gerard's heart, that somehow this enemy will find a way to harm him. Brian gives Gerard an understanding look and says, “It will be all right.”

Jacob is still laughing. Brian's hand snaps out and slaps him across the face. “I am your elder, and your blood. Answer.”

Jacob shakes his head jerkily. His eyes are wide with fear. “She'll do more than kill me if I talk.”

Brian is silent for a moment, but then he takes Jacob's head in his hands and stares into his eyes. This lasts for a few minutes, and then Brian pulls back. “Kill him,” he says.

Bob growls. “He doesn't deserve an easy death. I want more of his blood.”

“He was only working on her orders,” Brian says. “He is not evil, though he is a threat to us.”

But Bob argues his case to Gerard. “I ask for the right to do as I wish with him on Catherine's behalf.”

Brian's eyes are on Gerard, coolly assessing. Gerard looks away and nods to Bob. “For two nights, you may do as you wish.”

“I won't need two nights,” Bob says. “But I thank you.”

Gerard nods, ignoring Brian's displeasure. They walk upstairs, Gerard fidgeting to leave and get Frank. He is worried, not knowing what kind of condition they will find him in.

“I'll deal with her. You stay here,” Brian tells him.

For a moment, Gerard is speechless.

“She is my childe, Gerard,” Brian says. “My Julia.”

Gerard remembers the story as if Brian has just told him. “The one who saved you from the emperor of Rome – she sided with you over her own son.”

Brian nods.

“You do not want to kill her,” Gerard says slowly.

Brian looks pained. He touches Gerard's mind and shares his grief and abiding love for his childe. Gerard shakes his head and blocks him out.

“She is my own _childe_ ,” Brian says again. “I could never end her life. No more than I could end yours.”

Bob is silent through this conversation. He listens, completely still. Gerard knows he is torn between family obligation and revenge for Catherine's attack.

“I must save Frank,” Gerard says.

“I will go alone,” Brian says. “I will bring Frank back to you, I promise.”

“That isn't good enough,” Gerard says. “I need to find him myself, and deal with Julia.”

Brian growls, pushing at Gerard's mind with blunt force. “I will not allow you to harm her.”

Gerard pushes back. He is no match for Brian, though. He becomes dizzy, and he thinks Brian will stop, but the more powerful vampire presses on. Gerard knows he should not fight else he'll wear himself out. But something inside him wants to battle with Brian's mind until he is overcome.

Bob exits the room, leaving them alone.

Brian's mind is like a thunderstorm now, wind beating against Gerard's thoughts. Gerard can barely hold his head up now, and his knees go weak. Brian catches him, but does not give up his mental onslaught.

 _I will bring Frank back to you_ , he whispers in Gerard's head.

Gerard continues to fight, even as Brian lifts him into his arms and carries him back into the bedchamber.

“She deserves to die after what she's done,” Gerard slurs, trying to push Brian away.

“You killed her childe. Vratis. This is why she has sworn revenge on you,” Brian says. “I saw it all in Jacob's mind.”

“Oh,” Gerard says weakly.

“She will be punished,” Brian assures him. He lays Gerard down on the bed. “Stop fighting or you'll be out for nights and nights again.”

 _Bring him back safely_ , Gerard sends, and then he stops pushing back against Brian's mind. Brian sends waves of tiredness to him and thoughts of restful sleep.

Gerard closes his eyes and that is all he remembers until the next night.

*

Brian tells the story with a grim face over Frank's bed.

How he found Julia – mad with grief and blaming Gerard for everything – in a castle in Northumberland. How they fought with fangs and fists, how Julia didn't even recognize her own sire at first. Then her tears, her intense and insane sorrow over Vratis's death.

He does not describe what happened to her, whether he killed her in the end or simply put her into a deep sleep that would last a century. Gerard knows he has the power to do either.

He talks of how he found Frank in the castle bailey – shackled and starving and tortured, then turned so he could endure more torture. Then starved some more. He is feral when Brian finds him, biting at his own arm to get to _some_ blood, even if it is only his own.

Gerard holds a sleeping Frank close to him, his heart breaking for his consort. Turned against his will, starved, tortured – this is much worse than Frank has endured in the past. Gerard does not know if Frank will be able to get past this.

“He's strong,” Brian whispers.

Gerard knows this. He also knows Frank will need a sire.

“I will oversee the adoption, if you wish,” Brian says, reading Gerard's thoughts.

“He needs to feed,” Gerard murmurs.

Bob leaves the room and comes back with two humans who watch Gerard in awe. But Gerard has no time for court games, he simply grabs the nearest and rips into her wrist with his fangs, then holds her arm over Frank's body and lets the blood pour into Frank's mouth.

Frank doesn't swallow at first; he's in too deep a sleep. Brian knows his art well. Gerard tugs on the unraveled connection he shares with Frank and brings him to a half-aware state.

“Drink,” Gerard orders, rubbing Frank's throat gently. After a long moment, Frank swallows, then swallows again. “Good.”

Gerard looks up at the human who is sacrificing her blood and says, “Thank you. Margaret, isn't it?”

“Yes, Master,” Margaret whispers.

“You will be rewarded,” Gerard says, then looks back at Frank. He is still too pale. Gerard seals Margaret's wounds with his saliva, then reaches out to the other human. “He needs more, still.”

The man – John – nods and offers his wrist. Gerard is more careful this time, less rushed. His fangs slice through to the veins and blood once again pours into Frank's waiting mouth.

Frank makes a small, broken noise of hunger. His mouth makes a suction this time and he takes in John's rich blood. Gerard relaxes. It is merely instinct, he knows, but the small act is a good sign.

Frank drinks until Gerard pulls John away and heals him. There is a blood-flush to his cheeks now that he's fed, twin spots on his face. Gerard wipes his mouth with his handkerchief and Frank jerks, searching for more blood.

“We should perform the adoption as soon as possible,” Brian says in a low voice. “He can't survive long in this state without a sire.”

Gerard doesn't know anything about being a sire to an ill childe. But he will do his best for Frank, and Brian will be there to show him what to do.

“Now?” Gerard asks.

Brian gives Bob a silent order. Bob leads the others out of the room until Brian and Gerard are alone with Frank.

“I don't know where to start,” Gerard says. He is uneasy. Perhaps he will not be a good sire. Perhaps Frank will continue to hate him.

“I'll wake him,” Brian says, and does. Immediately, Frank begins to shake and cry out.

Gerard lies down and pulls Frank into his arms. He shushes him, but it does no good. Frank does not know why he's being touched, or that it is not malicious – Gerard can read that in his mind without even trying. Frank is projecting fear so hard Gerard can practically taste it.

“Drain him,” Brian says.

Gerard doesn't want to, but he knows he must. Frank will just take the pain as another torment... unless Gerard does something about it first. “I need to put him under thrall,” Gerard murmurs. “Make the bite seem pleasant.”

“Let me,” Brian says. “You need to focus on other things.”

Gerard shakes his head. “I want to do it.” He kisses Frank's neck, sees the scars there from Julia, and growls low in his throat.

It isn't an easy thing, taking over Frank's mind. Frank is wild and insane from his torture. Gerard lays his mind over Frank's like a blanket, containing the madness. He projects safety and protection. He nudges Frank's mind into accepting his fangs as pleasurable.

And then he tips Frank's head back and bites down.

Frank whimpers in pleasure, but he sounds nothing like himself. Gerard sucks hard, drinking deeply. Frank's blood is thin and weak. Gerard can taste that Frank is unwell. He can feel his ill mind, too. Beneath Gerard's mind, Frank's thoughts are fearful and only half-formed. His memories are buried deeply; even Gerard cannot access them.

Gerard projects warmth and affection to Frank as he drinks, petting his hair and the back of his neck. He drinks and drinks until fuzzy gray permeates Frank's mind.

“Now, pull back,” Brian whispers. Gerard has forgotten he was there, so caught up in Frank's welfare.

Gerard pulls away from Frank's throat and looks at the wounds there. The silvery twin scars of Frank's claiming have been violated by Julia's fangs. There is unhealed, torn skin there, where she must have bitten again and again. Gerard moves to try to heal them, but Brian interrupts.

“It's time,” Brian says.

Gerard nods and bites into his wrist fiercely, making a large wound that will bleed freely. Behind him, he feels the bed dip, and Brian lays a hand on his back.

Thick, ancient words pour out of Brian's mouth as Gerard holds his wrist to Frank's lips. The translation of the words has been long lost, but their meaning still holds true. Gerard can feel it in his blood and his soul.

“I make you,” Gerard whispers as Frank takes his first swallow. “I create you as my own.” Then, in his mind, he says, _Drink as much as you can. Be strong. Be mine._

Brian continues to chant, now in a whisper, as Frank latches on to Gerard's wrist and sucks. Gerard can feel his own life force leave his body and take up residence in Frank's. He can feel their minds connect in a way that he knows is permanent. He can feel that Frank is of his blood now, as much his childe as any would be.

Love. It is overwhelming. Gerard forgets Brian is even in the room, nearly forgets his own sire. Is this what Azrael was permitting when he said Gerard could sire a childe? This bond swamps Gerard's mind and tugs at his soul. Could Azrael have felt this for him when he turned him? The thought is jarring. Azrael showed affection but never this burning, eternal _love_.

“Look at me,” Gerard murmurs. Frank's eyes open and he stares up at Gerard, focusing on his face. Gerard smiles. “I love you.”

Frank's eyes widen and he reaches out, touching Gerard's cheek lightly. Gerard turns into the touch and kisses Frank's fingertips. Frank's thoughts are fragmented, scared things that flit about like tiny silver fish in a pond. He is surprised by the kiss, frightened and confused by it. Gerard holds his gaze and says it again.

“I love you, Frank.”

 _Frank, Frank, my name is Frank..._ he thinks back, as if he's just now learning this. Maybe he is.

Gerard sighs and lowers his wrist from Frank's mouth. “Yes. Your name is Frank.”

Frank moves his mouth as though he's going to say something, but ends up just licking his lips instead. Gerard wonders if he _can_ speak. Only time will tell.

Brian's chanting becomes louder, and Gerard feels a great power fill the room. It crashes over Frank and him like a wave, and Gerard has to lie back on the bed next to Frank.

He looks at Frank and sees that his eyes are closed, his lips slightly smiling. He is asleep. It is over. Gerard looks over at Brian and mouths, “Thank you.”

Brian nods and leaves the room. Gerard gathers Frank in his arms and holds him close, Frank's head pillowed on his chest. He lies there for a long while, just holding Frank, thankful he lives.

Eventually, sleep claims him.

*

Weeks pass, and Frank isn't much better. Gerard has to bring his meals to him and oversee the feeding so Frank doesn't take too much. Frank doesn't speak except mind to mind, and even then it is in fragments.

 _Sire_ , he sends one night. He does not call Gerard by name anymore. They are lying in bed, touching each other. Frank's touches are skittish things, and he shies away if Gerard touches him too much. _Want to go out._

Gerard sighs. “It isn't safe for you.”

 _Prison_ , Frank gripes, turning his back.

Gerard frowns and places a hand on Frank's shoulder. “No, never that,” he says, remembering the way the Ieros treated their son. “I'd never hold you against your will.”

 _Out_.

“Not out, not yet,” Gerard says. “But we can explore the house.”

Frank turns back, his eyes wary.

“We'll visit with Bob and Catherine, how's that?” Gerard coaxes.

Frank and Catherine have become friends. Frank seems to recognize something broken and familiar inside her, something he feels himself.

 _...Bri, too?_

Gerard smiles. “Yes, Brian too.”

As they exit the bedchamber, one of their human servants comes to them. “There's a dispute we need your help with, Master,” he says.

Gerard nods and is about to send Frank back into the room when he changes his mind. Frank can come. If anyone tries to harm him, Gerard will tear out their heart. “Follow me, Frank,” he says, and Frank obeys.

Downstairs they go, until they're in the main room. Gerard sits on his throne and Frank does an odd thing. He sits at Gerard's feet, like a slave.

 _No_ , Gerard sends. He nods at the chair beside him, the place for his consort. The chair Frank used to sit in.

Frank shakes his head and turns his face away to stare at the two vampires in the middle of the room.

“Master,” says the first vampire who inclines his head. Gerard knows him, has met with him a few times in the past.

“Victor,” Gerard says. He looks at the other vampire. “And you are?”

“Dimitri Fangsblood, Master,” he says. Gerard fights not to roll his eyes. Some of the names vampires come up with for themselves are laughable.

Instead of showing his exasperation, Gerard simply nods and says, “What seems to be the problem between you two?”

At his feet, Frank watches silently.

The two vampires begin talking at once. Gerard shuts them up with a clap of his hands and says, “Victor, you may speak first.”

Victor bows and says, “I've always hunted to the north of the Thames, never crossing paths with this one unless we are at your Black Court. But lately Dimitri has begun hunting in my territory, terrorizing people. I hunt clean, never leave a witness. I don't need this bullshit.”

Dimitri scoffs and says, “You don't own London, you can't tell me where I can hunt and where I can't.”

“Silence,” Gerard says. This time has been coming. Now that there are more vampires in London, hunting grounds will become a dispute between all of them. He thinks for a moment and then says, “Dimitri, what is your side to this?”

“I've just told you, Master,” Dimitri says. “I think I should be able to hunt wherever I want.”

Gerard nods and looks around the room. Others are watching on in plain interest, some in feigned boredom. Brian stands at the far wall and smiles faintly. This is up to Gerard.

“I'll need a map,” he says, and a human servant fetches one for him from the study.

He can't simply divide London and leave it at that.

 _Lord Bob_ , Frank sends, giggling in his mind as if it is a great joke.

Despite Frank's amusement, it is an impressive show of intelligence. Gerard is surprised at Frank's understanding of the situation, and his conclusion, which is the same as Gerard's.

“All of you, gather 'round,” Gerard says to the vampires in the room. He points to Lilith and to the map. “Lady Lilith, I give you central London.” His finger outlines the territory.

Lilith is young, but she has learned much in the last year. A little responsibility will keep her mind off the death of Cain, as well.

Lilith gasps. “ _Lady_?” she asks. “Who am I to command an entire territory?”

“Quiet, girl,” Bob says. “The Master has decreed it.”

Gerard gives Lilith a little smile and says, “I think you have earned the right. Now for the rest of you...”

He divides the city into five territories and gives them to those who have proven themselves loyal, trustworthy, and fair. He does not give a territory to William, who has been punished for cruelty towards their humans. He does not give a territory to Marlena, who turned five fledglings in one night without permission from either her sire or Gerard. Bob receives a territory, as does Brian. Victor retains the area to the north. One more vampire receives a territory, a half-century old scholar who has been helpful to the Court, and then Gerard is done.

“The rest of you will hunt under these vampires' supervision,” Gerard says. “They are the Lords and Lady of London, and you will respect them. My word is final.”

Frank stifles a giggle and Gerard looks down at him. _Very good_ , Frank sends.

“I'm so happy I have your approval, childe,” Gerard murmurs.

Some of the vampires look unhappy, but in the end they abide by Gerard's orders.

Frank gives a fake yawn, and Gerard takes the hint. “Now, if you'll all excuse me, we're going to bed.”

Back in their room, Frank strips out of his clothes. He's hasty about it, impatient. Gerard watches him, wondering what exactly he's doing.

 _Take me to bed_ , Frank sends, standing awkwardly in front of him. He's naked now, his pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight.

Gerard takes a step forward, then shakes his head. “You aren't well.”

 _Afraid?_ Frank sends. _Because you hurt me?_

“You remember?” Gerard asks.

 _Saw it in your mind_ , Frank sends.

Gerard pauses, then puts a hand on Frank's shoulder. “What else did you see?”

Frank shrugs and, in his typical fashion, changes the subject. _I want markings like Brian has._

Gerard is stunned. “Tattoos? You want tattoos. Where?”

Frank shrugs again. _Everywhere._

Gerard laughs and kisses him. “Maybe for your birthday,” he says.

 _Months away,_ Frank pouts. He wraps his arms around Gerard's neck and smiles. _I can wait._

“Time flies by when you're a vampire,” Gerard reminds him. “Soon it will be Hallowe'en, and we will have a ball to celebrate.” He runs his hands down Frank's smooth arms.

Frank shivers and presses against him, then pulls at Gerard's clothes. _Naked._

Gerard is hesitant to have sex with him. Frank is still fragile, his mind not entirely healed. Gerard wants Frank to be strong. He wants him to be _Frank_.

 _Please_ , Frank sends. _Need you._

Gerard touches his mind and feels his desire. Frank is not as broken as Gerard has thought. He is brimming with lust and a need for his sire. Gerard nods and begins untying his cravat.

Frank yanks Gerard's topcoat away, down his arms until Gerard is free of it. Then Frank goes to work on the buttoned fall of Gerard's breeches.

Gerard's cock springs free before he even has his boots off. Frank sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Gerard forward, then nuzzles his cock. His tongue darts out to lick the head, and Gerard moans at the sensation.

 _Want to taste you_ , Frank sends, his thoughts impatient. Gerard runs a hand through his hair and nods.

Cool wet suction envelops Gerard's cock as Frank begins to suck. He's not hesitant, though they haven't done this before. Frank slides his mouth down Gerard's erection until his nose is buried in short, curly hair.

 _So good..._ Frank sends, bobbing his head. Gerard leans on the bedpost and moans out his pleasure. He locks his knees to keep from falling over.

“Frank...” Gerard breathes, unable to keep himself from thrusting forward shallowly. Frank positions his hands at Gerard's hips, holding him still.

Frank's tongue works against the underside of Gerard's cock, sliding thick and cool against the hardness. Gerard's hand tightens on the bedpost and his other sinks into Frank's hair.

 _Love you, sire_ , Frank sends, then moans around Gerard's cock. The words make Gerard moan more than the vibration, but both make his balls tighten.

“God, Frank. I love you, too,” Gerard says aloud.

Frank tugs gently on Gerard's hip, giving him permission to thrust into Frank's wet mouth. Gerard does so carefully, mindful that this is Frank's first time. His cock slides over Frank's tongue and the head bumps Frank's throat. Frank makes a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan. He drops a hand to his own cock and begins to stroke.

Their minds are forever connected, being sire and childe, but right now they are meshed together more, feeding off each other's passion and love. It is not overwhelming to Gerard the way connecting to Brian is, but it is close. Gerard feels so much, his own emotions and Frank's, woven together, around and below each other's.

 _So much..._ Frank thinks, his large hazel eyes looking up into Gerard's.

“Yes. So much,” Gerard whispers, and slides his cock in, out, and into Frank's mouth again. Slowly at first, then faster as Frank takes it easily.

Frank squeezes Gerard's hip and strokes his own cock harder. It is leaking now; Gerard can smell the precome mixed with the musk of Frank's arousal.

 _Gerard..._ Frank sends desperately.

Not 'Sire', Gerard realizes. 'Gerard'. His name, which Frank has not used since his capture.

“Oh, Frank,” Gerard pants, tightening his hold on Frank's hair. He's close, so close to coming. “Come for me, baby,” he says, wanting Frank to reach completion first.

Frank can likely feel how close to the edge Gerard is now, and his own body reacts to the feelings and the words. He strokes his cock faster and then comes, spurting into his hand.

Gerard moans at the sight and scent of Frank's orgasm. His own is right there, he can almost see it...

And then he is plunging, no, _flying_ into climax, coming hard down Frank's throat. Frank swallows enthusiastically, missing some so that it dribbles down his chin. Gerard leans down and licks him clean, then gives him a hard, sloppy kiss. Frank kisses back, his tongue slicking against Gerard's, and wraps his arms around him.

Gerard finishes undressing, then joins Frank on the bed. He's feeling languid and complete, happy in a way he hasn't quite been since Frank's return. Frank is doing much better, he knows, although he wishes he would talk again.

“Can talk,” Frank whispers.

Gerard startles and looks at him.

“Just haven't wanted to,” Frank says. “Easier to just. In your mind.”

Gerard holds him close and feels wetness prick the back of his eyelids.

“You love me now,” Frank says. His voice is both soft and rough from disuse at the same time.

“Do you remember the time before?” Gerard asks hesitantly. _Do you remember why you left me?_

Frank is somber when he says, “You killed my human family.”

“Yes,” Gerard says, burying his face in Frank's hair.

Frank begins to talk, then coughs and continues in Gerard's mind. _You've given me a new family._

“You forgive me?” Gerard asks hopefully.

Frank sighs. _In a way._ He holds on to Gerard tightly. Gerard does not understand this partial forgiveness, but knows he will take what he can. He never wants Frank to hate him again.

 _Never hated you_ , Frank sends. _Hated what you did._

Gerard can understand this. He hates that Brian did not kill Julia, but he could never hate Brian himself.

“I love you,” Frank whispers. “I've always loved you.”

He knows how to answer that, now. “I love you too, childe.”

*

Summer passes and Hallowe'en approaches. Frank is excited for the ball being given in his honor, but seems to be more excited for his birthday present. Gerard has sketched for months, showing all his designs to Frank, but nothing has been quite right until the last one.

Pumpkins are an American fruit, not found in England except by special order. But Frank wants a pumpkin jack-o-lantern tattoo, not anything else.

“They just look better,” he says. He uses his voice all the time now, speaking in full sentences again. “I want the face of Stingy Jack, carved into a pumpkin, on my back.”

Gerard has never even seen a pumpkin, but he does what he can. Frank is thrilled at his work, wanting the tattoo as soon as he sees it.

“You have to wait until your birthday,” Gerard says. He's found a tattooist, a Marori from New Zealand. His name is Hehu, and Gerard brings him into the Black Court as an honored guest. While he is there, he gives Brian another tattoo – a band around his wrist. Gerard can feel Frank itch with jealousy for a tattoo of his own. “Be patient,” he tells him.

Hehu laughs at the sketch Gerard gives him, but assures him he can do it.

The ball is a masquerade. Wine flows freely, as does blood from healthy donors, who walk around in elegant masks. Gerard himself is dressed in a formal suit of velvet, his cravat stiff and tied in a complicated knot. He wears kohl around his eyes, as does Frank.

Frank wants to get his tattoo in front of everyone. Hehu pronounces that as good, and Gerard rolls his eyes at Frank's exhibitionism.

The ball runs on and on until the sun is about to rise. Frank is smiling and smiling, and Gerard can't help but melt a little when he sees how happy he is.

Brian joins them in bed, kissing both Frank and Gerard drunkenly. He's fed from inebriated donors and is feeling the wine in his blood.

They fall asleep together when the sun rises, and when it sets the next night, they find pleasure in each other's bodies. Gerard has never shared Frank before, but he likes the experience. His childe is enthusiastic and sensitive to every touch. Brian moves between them both, kissing and biting and touching as if he's starved for it.

Gerard moans when Brian unleashes his power. For the first time, Frank feels and understands what Gerard has felt since first meeting Brian in this life. Frank can barely move he is so overwhelmed. But Brian doesn't mind, just moves him into position and takes him.

Gerard watches Brian fuck Frank, his fangs dropping in his mouth. He wants them both, he _loves_ them both. He knows they will not always be together, though. He senses it. Brian has gotten restless at the Court, and will probably leave soon.

Gerard will not mourn for his loss. He will wish him well in his life. This is what he tells himself, anyway.

Frank is on his hands and knees and Brian is taking him from behind. They're both so beautiful like this, and Gerard moves under Frank so that he can take his cock into his mouth.

Frank is so overloaded with sensation that he comes almost immediately. Brian looks at Gerard and grins at him. Gerard smiles back eagerly.

Instead of moving to take Gerard's ass as well, Brian lies back and holds out his arms. Gerard slides into position and Brian whispers, “Fuck me, Gerard.”

There's only a little oil left, but it's enough. Gerard slicks his fingers and prepares Brian hastily, eager to be inside him. They haven't done this before, not in this life. Gerard has memories of fucking Brigh, but they are hazy, dreamlike things. This is real, this is now.

When Gerard finally pushes into Brian's body, it's a revelation. Brian is tight and the memory of heat burns in Gerard's mind. Brian clenches around his cock, making him groan. He thrusts deep inside him, then deeper, as hard as he can. Brian won't break.

He does moan, though, his voice echoing loudly off the walls.

“Jesus,” Frank whispers, watching from the side. His own cock twitches and he wraps a hand around it, stroking it to full hardness again.

Gerard can barely think to do anything but fuck Brian. He lets himself go, fucking hard and fast toward his completion.

Brian arches and rocks back hard until they are moving in concert. Their minds touch and entangle, feeding off each other in an endless cycle of hunger. Brian swings his legs over Gerard's shoulders, lithe and powerful, and Gerard is forced deeper inside him.

In their minds they dance like fire, flames burning into one another and roaring higher and higher until they reach something neither of them recognizes. Is it the bright, hot sun that burns their bodies inside out? Or are they flying in the cold, dark places between the stars? They do not try to define it, only let it happen. Beside them, Frank cries out as he comes, too.

Together, they come to awareness again. They are sticky with come and blood, their bodies thoroughly tired. Gerard feels debauched and used up, and Brian can barely move beneath him.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes. Gerard touches his mind gently and a flood of images comes to him. He sees himself and Brian, fucking so furious-fast that they are a blur.

Gerard blinks and the image is gone. He moves a little to roll off Brian, placing himself between him and Frank. Frank slides into his arms and rests his head on Gerard's chest. Brian presses along Gerard's other side and sighs in contentment.

“I'm a mess,” Gerard murmurs, looking down at himself.

Brian laughs. “Maybe we'll get you into the bath for a change.”

“Mmm,” Gerard says, closing his eyes. “Later.”

Brian bites his shoulder with blunt teeth, a playful nip that makes Gerard smile. “Don't sleep long. I'm sure Bob is tired of settling petty arguments when that's _your_ job.”

“Bob would make a good Master,” Gerard says lightly. “Because he doesn't seek power. He would do good in my place.”

Brian sits up a little, propping himself up on his hand. “Are you thinking of leaving?”

Gerard can feel Frank shift to watch his face intently.

“You're going to go,” Gerard says to Brian. “Don't argue; I've seen it in your mind. You want to take Julia away and try to heal her mind.”

“If I can,” Brian says.

“I want to leave,” Gerard says. “And Frank needs to see the world.”

“You're restless,” Brian says. “I can understand that.”

“I wasn't made to lead,” Gerard says. “I never wanted it, not really. I just wanted to protect our kind.”

“And you have,” Frank says. “But where will we go?”

Gerard kisses his hair and smiles. “Anywhere we want. I think we'll start by giving you a Grand Tour.”

He doesn't mention the fact that he and Brian will be parting. But Brian must read his thoughts, because he says softly, “We will be together again. I just need some time with Julia.”

Gerard looks at him and forces a smile. “I know. We always find each other.”

Brian kisses him fiercely, blunt teeth nipping hard at Gerard's lower lip. “And you'll always be mine, no matter what.”

He speaks the way a sire would speak to a childe, and Gerard's smile becomes more genuine.

Frank closes his eyes and hums quietly. “I'd like to learn to play an instrument.”

Gerard blinks at the change in topic. “What?”

“So I could play what I can't say,” Frank says, and then he shares a look with Brian. Gerard can feel their energy reaching out to one another, and feel a connection that is stronger than he'd thought was there. Frank is saying he'll miss Brian, and that he feels strongly for him.

Gerard closes his eyes. “Piano?”

“No,” Frank says. “I'd like something I can hold.”

“I play guitar,” Brian says. “You'd probably like that.”

Gerard has a memory of Brian playing something that looks like a harp but isn't. He sits beside the bank of a pond and plays while Gerard and his twin brother swim.

He swallows hard and tries to focus on the instrument. It's a kithara, he knows suddenly. But his mind's eye is drawn back to the pond, where a laughing Michael – no, Mihaitus is his name – splashes water at him and then ducks beneath the surface. Gerard dives down into the water and hugs Mihaitus around the waist, bringing him back up. They kiss, and it's sweet and gentle with just a touch of heat. They turn as one to beckon Brigh to join them.

“Are you all right?” Brian asks gently, his hand on Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard opens his eyes and blinks hard, back in the present again. “I was just remembering your kithara,” he says.

Brian gives him an understanding look and kisses his forehead. “Sleep for a little while.”

Frank has already dozed off beside him. It's easy to let himself drift. He dreams of his boyhood with his twin, and then of Michael in his own lifetime.

Through it all, Brian and Frank hold him. It is selfish to wish for more, his mind whispers. But when he comes awake again, he still aches for his brother, and knows he will never be complete without him.

*

Present Day

“Are you coming to my show tonight?” Frank asks.

Gerard would rather stay in and paint or read comic books, but Frank is so excited about playing in a 'real live band' that he can't possibly say no to his adopted childe. “Okay.”

Frank lights up like a Christmas tree. “It's gonna be fucking awesome.”

Gerard smiles at the modern way Frank talks now. He should be used to it, but sometimes he hears echoes of Frank's accent – now thoroughly American – and marvels. His own accent has softened as well; traveling and living in America for fifty years will do that.

“What time do we have to be there?” Gerard asks.

“We're leaving now,” Frank says. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

Dressing in the twenty-first century is so much easier. All Gerard has to do is slip on a pair of jeans, grab a tee-shirt and jacket, and lace up his boots. Frank watches him, impatience emanating from him thickly.

“All right, all right, I'm ready,” Gerard says, smiling at him.

They run hand in hand to the club. It's always fun to run with Frank, who loves to move and exert his power. The stretch their legs and Frank runs as fast as he can, and Gerard matches his pace.

The club is small and crowded, and Gerard slips off to skulk in the shadows. It's his thing, his vampire thing. He can watch Frank just as well from the wall as he can from up close. He has preternatural sight and hearing, after all.

He watches the dancers, vaguely aware of the hunger he feels. He should feed while he's here. He likes watching the kids who come to Frank's shows. They move with reckless abandon, smelling like salt and sex. Their heartbeats pound, and Gerard can hear them above the music. He knows Frank can, too, that their beating hearts move him.

Frank flails on the stage, playing his heart out. Gerard is so proud of him for finding something he loves to do.

Gerard slips through the crowd when he finds his target. She's got black hair and black eyes, pale skin like a vampire herself. Gerard touches her mind as he touches her arm, then pulls her back along the wall.

She arches against him in pleasure when he bites down. He can hear her soft gasp and low moan. He slips his thigh between her legs so she has something to move against if she wants.

He feels eyes on him. Not Frank's, but someone else's. Someone human. He reaches out, feeling with his mind, still drinking from the club girl. His intention is to wipe a memory, but the mind he finds is painfully familiar.

Gerard licks the girl's neck healed and turns his head. There, staring at him, are eyes he would recognize anywhere.

 _Michael_.

On stage, Frank misses a chord and whips around towards Gerard and Michael. The rest of the band messes up and stops playing. The entire club complains.

Still, Gerard stares at Michael.

His hair is different, his cheekbones higher, his eyes lighter than the brown Gerard remembers. His clothes are tight and thin, showing off more of his body than Gerard remembers ever seeing. No, that's not right. His mind flashes to images of Mihaitus, swimming naked in a pond with him. He can feel his body beneath him and over him, and he has to close his eyes.

When he opens them again, Michael is gone.

Frank tells the crowd they're taking a break and joins Gerard. “I heard right?”

Gerard looks around frantically. “He was here. I just saw him, and then he disappeared.”

“Okay, okay. We'll find him,” Frank says, trying to calm him. But Gerard can't calm down; he just saw his brother for the first time in centuries.

Gerard sends a picture of Michael to Frank's mind. Frank nods and goes one way while Gerard goes the other. They'll find him.

Michael isn't in the club. They go outside and look around, but still find no sign of him.

“He saw me feed,” Gerard says. “It must have scared him.”

But Michael hadn't looked scared. His face had been unreadable – blank. The only thing Gerard saw any emotion in was his eyes, and even those were hard to read.

A bus rolls by, and Gerard curses. Michael could be miles away by now if he had a car. They'll never find him. Not unless he comes back to the club.

“We'll find him,” Frank says again, wrapping an arm around Gerard's waist. Gerard leans on him and closes his eyes.

“We have to,” Gerard says. “He's... he's everything.”

“I know,” Frank says.

“Did you recognize him?” Gerard asks. “Have you seen him before?”

“No,” Frank says. “I'm sorry.”

“Fuck,” Gerard swears quietly. Then he punches the alley wall. His fist cracks through the brick and mortar, and he feels his bones crunch.

“Don't do that,” Frank says, grabbing his hand. Even as he does, Gerard feels the bones knitting back into place. It hurts but he doesn't care. Frank pulls him close, hugging him tightly.

“At least I know...” Gerard begins to say. He knows his general vicinity – a medium-sized town in Jersey. He knows what he looks like. He knows, he finally knows, that Michael _lives_.

*

Gerard stalks the club every night after he sees Michael. He leans back against the wall, scanning the crowd, watching everyone who goes in or out.

When he's not at the club, he paints. He paints furiously, trying to capture Michael's soul on canvas. The paintings are a mixture of old and new Michael; on some of the canvases he wears a toga, on some he wears linen shirts, hose, and breeches.

And then there are the more modern paintings, where Michael is wearing jeans and a band shirt. Gerard has to work hard on these, getting them just right. He only saw him for a moment, just a glimpse, so he can't quite get it.

He loses sleep, dreaming restlessly during the day and waking hours before Frank to paint and pace.

“Maybe you should check some of the other clubs,” Frank says one night.

“No,” Gerard says. “He'll come back to this one.”

“Do you think he'll be drawn to you?” Frank asks. “Do you think he'll remember?”

“I don't know,” Gerard murmurs. But how could Michael not be drawn to him? Gerard's soul cries out for Michael's. Surely he feels the same.

“Why don't you take a picture of one of your paintings and show it around?” Frank suggests. “Maybe someone knows him.”

Gerard frowns at his latest creation. Michael's jeans are faded and slung low on his hips, and Gerard can see the hint of skin right below the hem of his shirt. In a different age, it would be obscene. Now, the sight makes Gerard's throat tighten.

“That one will work,” Frank says, and whips out his phone to take a picture. “I'll ask people, too. If he's a regular on the scene, we'll find him.”

“We'll find him no matter what,” Gerard murmurs, taking a picture of his own.

“He looks young. Probably still in high school,” Frank says.

“You look young yourself,” Gerard says with a smile.

Frank makes a face and gives Gerard a hug. “I'll ask everyone I see if they know him.”

Gerard hugs back fiercely. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Frank whispers.

*

The tiny club is having another all-ages night, which gives Gerard hope. The band that plays is good. They rile the crowd and get it jumping.

“Have you seen my brother?” Gerard asks again and again, showing the picture around.

There are a couple of nods, but no one knows anything for certain. Gerard searches their minds for a name, a place, anything.

 _Mikey_ , the bartender knows. _Mikey Way_.

Gerard's breath catches in his throat. They have the same surname. Perhaps, far back, they are related. If Michael is a descendant of the Ways who left England in Gerard's time, that would make them cousins, of a sort.

But Michael will always be Gerard's baby brother, of this he is sure.

It goes faster after that. He has a name. “Do you know my brother? Michael... Mikey Way?”

The younger the patrons in the club, he finds, the more likely they are to have met Michael in the past. One girl says, “Mikey, sure. He's in my Latin class.”

Gerard feels excitement well up in him. “Do you know where he lives?”

The girl shrugs. “Never asked. I've seen him at Dante's a lot, though.”

Dante's is another club. All this time, Gerard should have been searching somewhere else. But this is a good lead.

“Where do you go to school?” he asks, compelling her to answer truthfully.

“Belleville High,” she answers easily.

“Thank you,” Gerard murmurs, and thralls her just enough that she'll follow him outside. He feeds from her quickly, eager to find Michael.

He heads to Dante's. Now that he's fed, he can use the rest of the night to hunt for his brother.

Dante's is an all-ages club, filled with high school kids dressed in tight clothes. It only takes one sweep of the club to find that Michael isn't there. So Gerard begins to ask around, and finds that his brother was there earlier, but went home. No one knows exactly where he lives.

“Hey, I hear you're looking for Mikey,” someone says, tapping Gerard on the back. Gerard turns around and sees a girl of about sixteen. She has dark eye makeup and long black hair.

“Yes,” Gerard says. “Do you know where he lives?”

The girl narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”

Gerard smiles and presses on her mind. “I'm his brother.”

She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Mikey's an only child,” she says hesitantly.

“We've been apart for some time,” Gerard says. In her mind, he sees an old but well-kept brick house on the edge of town. “Thank you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don't you want to know more?”

Gerard smiles. “I don't need any more. You've been very helpful.”

He leaves her standing there confused.

*

The house is easy to find, and Gerard gets there before Michael does. He watches from the shadows as Michael parks and gets out of his car. He touches his mind and Michael looks up towards where Gerard is hiding.

“Hello?” Michael calls. His voice is even, unafraid. Gerard's heart turns over at the sound.

Michael takes a few steps forward, then shakes his head and mutters something under his breath. He walks back towards the house and goes inside.

Gerard crouches in the bushes beside the house and looks inside. Michael's mother is there waiting up for him, and she smiles when she sees him. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and then opens the refrigerator. Gerard watches him, the easy slump of his shoulders and the graceful movement of his limbs. It's painfully familiar. Mother always scolded Michael for slouching, but he did it anyway. The sight of it now is almost too great for Gerard to bear. But still, he watches, memorizing the lines of Michael's new body.

He's taller now, possibly taller than Gerard himself. His hair is darker, not the pale blond of Michael's childhood. His eyes are lighter, he noticed before. Hazel now instead of brown. Not quite as light as Frank's, but close.

Gerard watches as Michael goes upstairs. His mother follows, presumably to her own bedroom.

Gerard waits.

The house is quiet, but he can hear their heartbeats and their small sighs as they sleep. He finds a key under a flower pot by the back door and lets himself in. Quietly, he pads upstairs. He follows the scent of teenaged boy to a half-closed door.

He feels like a voyeur as he watches Michael sleep. He touches his mind, sees his dreams. He closes his eyes and slips in, unseen.

But he sees himself. Michael has been dreaming of him and that night at the club. In his waking hours, Gerard sees, Michael has almost convinced himself that he imagined it. But here in his dreams, he relives the moment.

There is Gerard, leaning over the girl. He can't see his face, only the back of his head. Michael – no, he calls himself _Mikey_ in his mind – watches with interest. Then Gerard turns around and-

Fangs. Blood. Red eyes. But Mikey isn't frightened by the sight. Why isn't he scared? Gerard moves through Mikey's mind and sees that he's trapped in the moment, unable to move under Gerard's gaze. There's something familiar there, something Mikey feels deep in his bones. Or maybe his veins.

The scene shifts, and Gerard watches Mikey's imagination take flight. He is laid bare beneath Gerard, his neck exposed. Gerard holds him down and lunges for his throat.

Back in his bedroom, Mikey stirs and slides a hand beneath the covers. Gerard goes very still as Mikey begins to stroke himself in his sleep. He tentatively reaches out with his mind, feeling Mikey's need. He swallows hard as the scent of lust fills the small room.

Mikey moans in his sleep, stroking faster. In his dream, Gerard feeds from him, biting down harder and rocking against him.

Mikey orgasms, and the scent of his come overwhelms Gerard. He feels sick for watching, ashamed and excited at the same time. This is his _brother_.

But Mikey has also been his lover. In another life, they were even closer than Gerard can remember of this lifetime, twins who knew each other's greatest fears and desires. Perhaps they were together in other lifetimes as well.

He longs to taste Mikey's blood and remember.

Mikey rolls onto his side and falls into a deeper sleep. Gerard moves closer, smooth and soundless. He leans down and presses a kiss to Mikey's forehead, then breathes in the scent of his hair.

He smells like sunshine after a storm. Like hope.

*

“I found him,” Gerard says to Frank. The dawn is approaching, else he would still be watching over Mikey.

Frank touches Gerard's mind and reaches for memories. Gerard gives them up easily, used to sharing everything with Frank.

“He's not your brother in this lifetime,” Frank reminds him gently. “You have to … I don't know, woo him.”

Gerard laughs. “I don't know how to woo someone.”

“You'd better learn, and stop being a creepy creepster who breaks into houses and watches underaged boys masturbate,” Frank says.

Gerard sobers. “Don't say it like that, it was... an accident. I didn't mean to see that.”

“And yet you didn't leave when you saw what was going on,” Frank says. He wraps his arms around Gerard's waist and presses against him. “Horny?”

“You know I am,” Gerard says.

“Then do me,” Frank says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Gerard pulls at Frank's shirt and lifts it up over his head, exposing smooth, tattooed skin. He presses him to the bed and unzips his jeans. Frank lifts his hips and lets Gerard slide them down his legs. Frank isn't wearing any underwear.

“How do you want me?” Frank asks.

“I want to suck you off,” Gerard says, “and then I'm going to fuck you.”

Frank beams at him. “You always have the best ideas.”

Gerard strips down until he's bare, then climbs between Frank's legs. He licks Frank's length, teasing and light, and laughs when Frank complains. Gerard swallows him down suddenly, making Frank arch up off the bed. He sucks voraciously, jacking him with his hand as he does.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gerard,” Frank gasps, slipping a hand into his hair.

Gerard touches his mind and sends a burst of amusement along the connection. Frank flips him off and thrusts into his mouth.

Frank continues thrusting, fucking Gerard's mouth until he comes, gasping and pulling Gerard's hair. He's always extra sensitive after he comes, and Gerard touches him gently, rolling him onto his stomach.

He fucks him smoothly, hard enough to break a human but just right for a vampire. Frank's hands clench in the sheets and he moans, pushing back on Gerard's cock.

Gerard is thinking of nothing but Frank when he comes, although afterward his mind wanders back to Mikey.

“How do I woo him?” he asks. “I've never dated anyone before, I have no idea how to do it.”

“You should try talking to him,” Frank says sleepily. “Find out what you have in common.”

“Besides our past lives?” Gerard asks sardonically.

“You should leave out that part,” Frank says. “And the part where you're a bloodsucking creature of the night.”

“I think he's already figured that much out,” Gerard says.

“Gee, go to sleep,” Frank says, closing his eyes. “You have eternity to figure this shit out.”

“He's human. I don't have that long,” Gerard says testily.

“Oh c'mon, lighten up,” Frank says. He pillows his head on Gerard's chest and smacks his shoulder. “Think about it tomorrow night.”

Gerard growls playfully and nuzzles Frank's hair. “All right. I'll rest.”

“Not like you have a choice,” Frank yawns.

The sun comes up and the force of it pulls Gerard down into sleep.

*

Gerard follows Michael from his house to Dante's. It's Friday night, and Gerard has waited almost a week to see him again. He's been overly patient, he thinks. It's time for them to meet properly.

Michael goes into the club and Gerard follows at a distance. Gerard touches his mind lightly as he meets with his friends.

He stiffens and looks around. Somehow, he's felt Gerard's mental intrusion. He doesn't know where it comes from, though.

One of Michael's friends looks at Gerard and frowns, then leans in close to Michael and whispers something.

Michael freezes and turns around, looking straight at Gerard. Gerard nods and his brother's face pales. No, not his brother. This isn't Michael, not exactly.

 _Come here, Mikey_ , Gerard sends gently, leaning against the fall wall of the club. It's shadowed here and relatively quiet.

Mikey shakes his head and looks down, then looks up again, unable to keep his eyes from Gerard. Mikey whispers something to a friend, still not looking away, and begins to walk closer.

His entire body is tense, his instincts screaming _Danger!_ in his mind. But Mikey isn't a coward. Against his fear, he walks on. He comes closer, until Gerard could just reach out and touch him. He doesn't though, not yet. Mikey is spooked enough already.

Mikey stops in front of him, looking into his eyes. Gerard nods again.

“I'm Gerard,” he says.

Mikey swallows and licks his bottom lip nervously. “You're a vampire,” he says, his voice soft but even. If Gerard wasn't touching his mind, he would have thought him calm.

Gerard smiles and leans back more, giving the impression of total relaxation. He wants Mikey to let down his guard, but he knows it won't be that easy.

“I am,” Gerard says. “But it's a secret.” On the small stage, a band starts playing. Gerard smiles and holds out his hand to Mikey. “Dance?”

Mikey shakes his head no even as he reaches out to take Gerard's hand. His eyes are narrow and distrustful, but Gerard curls his fingers around his and pulls him onto the dance floor.

Gerard knows how to dance, he just doesn't do it very often anymore. But he's seen Frank move enough to know just how to do it. He places his hands at Mikey's hips – gently, not as possessively as he'd like – and pulls him close.

They move together to the music, and Gerard once again touches Mikey's mind. Mikey's breath comes sharp and he thinks, _What is he doing to my head?_

 _Relax_ , Gerard sends. _Just dance_.

Mikey shakes his head as if to dislodge Gerard's mind. “Don't do that,” he says softly. “It creeps me out.”

“Talk to you mind to mind?” Gerard asks.

“Don't do anything with my mind,” Mikey says. “I don't like thinking there's more than me in my head.”

Gerard leans forward and murmurs in his ear. “I'd never hurt you.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you,” Mikey says back in a monotone. Then, “What do you want with me?”

Gerard hesitates to answer. He can't give Mikey the truth, but he answers as best he can. “I like you, Mikey Way.”

“You don't even know me,” Mikey says.

“What I know is good,” Gerard says. “And I'd like to get to know you better.”

Mikey bites his lip and nods slowly. “Just don't kill me, okay?”

Gerard smiles and pulls Mikey closer against him. He can feel the beat of his heart in his chest and smell his shampoo under his sweat. “I won't,” he promises.

Mikey mutters, “A fucking _vampire_ ,” under his breath, but doesn't pull away. He lets Gerard dance close to him, and he begins to move with the music again.

When the band's set ends, Gerard buys Mikey a cold soda and offers to walk him home.

“I drove,” Mikey says. “And I doubt my mom would want me bringing home an older man. She's not that understanding.”

“What time do you have to be home?” Gerard asks. Mikey looks at his watch and says, “In an hour.”

“Oh. Maybe tomorrow night you could come to my place. You could meet Frank,” Gerard says, excited at the idea.

“Who's Frank?” Mikey asks.

Gerard hesitates. How to describe his relationship to Frank to someone who doesn't understand vampire relationships? He settles with, “Frank's my childe.”

“Your childe. You mean you made him a vampire?” Mikey asks.

Gerard nods.

“Are you... together?” Mikey asks.

“We've been together for almost two hundred years,” Gerard says.

Mikey pulls away a little and studies Gerard's face. “That's not what I meant.”

“It's hard to explain,” Gerard says. “He's family.”

“And more,” Mikey says. “Don't try to lie to me. What do you want me for?”

“Pardon?” Gerard says.

Mikey snorts. “If you have Frank already, what do you want _me_ for? Or are you just greedy?”

“You want me, too,” Gerard murmurs.

“Stay out of my mind,” Mikey says.

“Come have dinner with us tomorrow night. I'll pick you up,” Gerard says.

“I can drive,” Mikey answers. “Give me your address.”

Gerard does. Mikey says he'll arrive when the sun goes down.

“I still don't know what you want with me, but I'm curious enough to go along with it,” Mikey says.

“How old are you?” Gerard asks.

“Seventeen,” Mikey says. “Why? Too young for you?”

It's old enough to die, older than Michael was when the plague took him. Gerard has a sudden fear that something will happen to Mikey. He shakes his head and looks away. “Stay safe, okay?”

Mikey gives him a strange look, but nods slowly. Music from the DJ blares through the speakers.

They dance silently after that, moving together, pressed against one another, and Gerard can sense Mikey's arousal as a slow burning fire. It would be so easy to stoke it, to make Mikey burn for him, but Gerard knows he should go slowly else he will chase Mikey away. He doesn't want to scare him.

After the dance, Gerard pulls away, dragging his eyes from Mikey's long neck. “You have to go.”

Mikey nods and then impulsively kisses Gerard's cheek. When he pulls back, he is flushed.

Gerard watches Mikey leave, then goes home himself. Frank is still out and the large house is quiet. Gerard misses his Court sometimes, the company of humans and vampires living together. He doesn't miss the responsibility, though. He has enough to worry about in his life.

He goes through the mail, sorting through bills and advertisements. Among the plain white envelopes is one that is different. It is made of folded parchment and sealed with black wax. There is no return address.

Gerard opens the letter carefully, recognizing the handwriting at once.

> My Dearest Childe,
> 
> With a heavy heart, I must tell you of your Grandsire's death. A mob of humans attacked his Court while they slept. I was out in the countryside on an errand at the time, and came back a night later to find Selim and the rest of the Court burned to death.
> 
> Those responsible have been punished.
> 
> I find myself in Greece again. It is not the same without your companionship. Please come and rid me of my loneliness.
> 
> Your affectionate Sire,  
> Azrael

Gerard shakes his head in denial. He can't leave Mikey. He won't. Azrael will have to deal with his 'loneliness' himself.

“What's that?” Frank says from behind him. Gerard turns, surprised.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says. “I didn't even feel you.”

Frank grins. “I'm working on shielding.”

“Well you're getting pretty good at it,” Gerard says, proud of his adopted childe.

“What has you in a tizzy?” Frank asks, taking the letter from Gerard's hands. He reads silently, then whistles low. “What are you going to do?”

Gerard shakes his head. “Write back and say I can't come, I guess. It isn't an order.”

“It sounds like it's pretty close to an order to me,” Frank says. “Although he does say 'please'.”

Gerard burns the letter in the fireplace.

“How did he find you, anyway?” Frank asks.

“I'm sure he has his ways,” Gerard murmurs. He watches the letter curl in on itself and burn. “Michael – Mikey – is coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I hope you're not cooking,” Frank says.

“We're not letting _you_ near the kitchen,” Gerard says.

“I only set a fire maybe once. Or twice,” Frank says defensively.

Gerard smiles. “We'll get someone to come in and cook,” he says. “I think I know just the right person. Call Ray?”

Frank smiles and gets out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He calls and offers Ray a scandalous amount of money to cook the next day. Gerard can hear Ray's voice answer back in excitement as he says yes.

Frank puts his phone away again and says, “I think he has a crush on me.”

“Ray?” Gerard says. He thinks for a moment, remembers the shy glances and flushing cheeks. “I think he has a crush on us both.”

“Can I have him?” Frank asks. “I've never had a pet before.”

Gerard laughs. “I think Ray would be more than just a pet,” he says. He's touched Ray's mind, seen the fierce intelligence and honesty there. He would be loyal, too, something that Frank values highly.

Frank nods, hearing Gerard's thoughts. “I'll flirt with him a little tomorrow night.”

Gerard laughs again. Frank's flirting is not a subtle thing.

“I can be subtle,” Frank pouts. “He plays guitar, too. We can talk about music. So when is Mikey coming?”

“He'll be here an hour after sunset,” Gerard says.

They go to bed, and Gerard talks softly about his night. Frank touches his mind to fill in the blanks, nodding as he does.

“He is frightened, but he wants you,” Frank says.

“I want him to love me,” Gerard admits. “I want him to remember.”

“You'll have to go slowly with him,” Frank tells him. “Get to know each other. Show him you're more than just a hungry vampire. He wants the danger, yes, but...”

“I want him to want me for myself,” Gerard says.

“He will. Give him time,” Frank says. Then he moves into Gerard's arms and says, “I will have to go slowly with Ray, as well. He doesn't know what we are. I don't want to scare him away.”

He nuzzles Gerard's neck, mouthing the skin there. Gerard tips his head back for him and says, “Go ahead.”

“I always want you,” Frank whispers, then bites down. He sucks at Gerard's blood, slow and shallow. He doesn't take more than a few mouthfuls before he pulls back and licks over the marks he's made.

Gerard can feel Frank's hardness, so he wraps a hand around his cock and begins to stroke. Frank moans and kisses him, then straddles his waist.

Gerard's cock presses against Frank's ass as he rocks against him. He doesn't want to fuck, not right now when dawn is so close upon them. This is enough.

Frank pushes into Gerard's hand and says, “Faster, Sire.”

Gerard complies and strokes him the way he likes, hard and rough. He leans up and kisses him again, hard and demanding. Possessive, even after all these years.

Their minds entwine, feeding off one another. Frank comes, gasping Gerard's name. Then he slides down and takes Gerard's cock into his mouth.

Frank sucks cock like he does everything else – with overwhelming enthusiasm. Gerard is bucking up into his mouth after only a few moments, groaning and sliding his hands into Frank's hair.

Frank looks up at him, a smile in his eyes. _Come down my throat. I know you want to._ He sends Gerard obscene images, some of them hardly realistic. Gerard sends an image back, that of what he's seeing now: Frank looking up at him with dark eyes, taking his cock between stretched lips, looking completely debauched and beautiful.

Gerard comes, his cock spurting into Frank's mouth. Frank swallows, moaning happily, then licks up what he missed. Gerard thinks Frank lets it dribble down his chin on purpose, just so his sire will lick it from his face. Gerard pulls him up, dragging his tongue from Frank's neck to his lips, then kisses him messily.

Frank nearly purrs in contentment. They rolls onto their sides and face each other, Gerard tracing his fingers over Frank's cheek lightly.

“I love you, childe,” he whispers.

Frank smiles and closes his eyes. “Love you, too. So much.”

They fall asleep with their arms wrapped around each other, just as they do most nights. The years together have only deepened their feelings for each other, pulled them together so that nothing could part them.

As Gerard falls asleep, he remembers back to when he couldn't love. He remembers his fierce anger, his unquenchable desire for violence and bloodshed. He's changed much over the centuries, and Frank has been a big part of his evolution. Now he even cares for humans, in his own way.

And this is the main reason he doesn't want to see Azrael. His sire doesn't have a touch of humanity in him, and he taught Gerard to be the same way. Gerard knows he'll be disappointed, perhaps even angry, at the way Gerard treats humans now.

Gerard no longer kills innocents. He respects humans and feeds from them carefully, keeping pain to a minimum. He gives them happy thoughts when they part, vague memories of pleasure and affection. He doesn't seek to incite fear, no matter how delicious it is. This respect goes against everything Azrael taught him.

He still feels affection for his sire, but the connection is weak. He doesn't know if he _likes_ Azrael anymore. For the most part, he pities him.

He dreams of his turning and the times immediately after. He tosses in his sleep, feeling the pain and anguish of the humans he murdered for decades under Azrael's tutelage. He is vaguely aware of Frank holding him tightly, touching his mind and sending waves of love.

When he wakes, the sun is low in the sky, nearly set. He feels guilt. Frank is awake, watching him silently.

“I don't deserve to have Michael,” Gerard whispers.

Frank rolls his eyes and slaps him on the shoulder. “You're not the same person anymore.”

“Yes, I am. I still feel the urge to kill sometimes. I-”

“But you don't,” Frank says. “I know; I watched you change. You're different. Your heart is different.”

Gerard shakes his head. “Is it enough to make up for what I did in the past?”

“Do you think you can ever make it up to those you killed? It's impossible,” Frank says, and Gerard's heart sinks. “But you've turned yourself around. You've saved humans in the past. You treat them with dignity now, even when you don't have to.”

“Ray's downstairs,” Gerard says. He needs time to mull over Frank's words. “Go on down and flirt.”

Frank grins and gets dressed in a hurry, then practically flies out of the room. If Gerard wanted to, he could listen in on the conversation. He leaves them alone, though, dressing himself and thinking about Mikey.

Would Mikey accept him if he knew about all the people Gerard has killed? Probably not. It's just another thing to hide from him.

*

Mikey arrives promptly at 9:11, an hour after sunset. “I checked online for sunset times,” he says.

Gerard is oddly touched by the gesture. “Thank you,” he says, leading Mikey into the dining room. Ray is there, setting out the food. Frank is standing near him, and he grins widely as they enter the room.

“Mikey Way, I'd like to introduce Frank Iero. Frank, this is Mikey,” Gerard says almost formally. “And the gentleman who prepared our food is Ray Toro. Ray, this looks delicious.”

“I didn't know vampires ate real food,” Mikey murmurs softly. Ray must hear him, because he looks confused.

Gerard looks at Frank, and Frank takes the hint. Ray's eyes go slightly glassy as he exits the room, Frank on his heels.

“What was that?” Mikey asks.

“Oh. Ray doesn't know we're vampires,” Gerard explains. “Frank wants to break it to him gently.”

“Not really a gentle way to put it, is there? I mean, 'I suck blood' is pretty...”

Gerard looks at him as he trails off. “You aren't running away.”

“I did at first,” Mikey points out.

“But now you aren't,” Gerard says. “I could be evil. I could want to kill you.”

“Not inspiring a lot of confidence there, dude,” Mikey says, but Gerard can tell he's mostly joking, even though his voice stays soft and serious.

Gerard smiles. “I don't kill humans for no good reason,” he says. Not anymore, he thinks.

“What would you call a good reason?” Mikey asks curiously.

“If they threatened someone I loved,” Gerard says slowly. “I can be very protective.”

Mikey shivers even though the room is warm.

“Sit down and eat,” Gerard says. “I don't want all this food going to waste.”

“Will Frank be joining us?” Mikey asks, taking a seat. Gerard sits beside him at the head of the table.

“He's busy flirting with Ray right now,” Gerard says with a smile. The snippets of conversation he catches are amusing. Frank is close to just getting naked and offering himself. Subtlety is not his strong suit.

“You don't mind?” Mikey asks.

Gerard pours wine into their glasses and shakes his head. “Why would I mind? They like each other.”

“You aren't jealous?” Mikey presses.

“Frank and I are... solid. Unshakable. We've been together a long time,” Gerard explains, picking up his fork.

“Are you bored of him? Is that why you're after me?” Mikey asks.

Gerard pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I don't think I will ever be bored of Frank. Once you get to know him you'll understand.”

“So... why? Why me?” Mikey asks.

“You're special,” Gerard says simply.

“I'm not,” Mikey denies. “I'm just me.”

Gerard smiles softly and chews his food. Then he says, “You're special to me. That is all you need to know.”

Mikey gives him a dubious look and takes a bite of his own food. It's a chicken fajita with Spanish rice, done to perfection. Gerard enjoys his own, reminding himself to pay Ray a handsome tip on top of the money he's been promised.

“So... vampires eat?” Mikey asks.

“Sometimes,” Gerard says. “I don't need to, but I can and do occasionally. Usually when I want to share dinner with someone. It's only polite. You wouldn't want me to sit and stare at you while you ate, would you?”

Mikey huffs and smiles. “No, that'd be pretty creepy.”

Gerard is reminded of Frank's comment from the week before, that Gerard was a 'creepy creepster' who broke into houses and watched underaged boys masturbate. If he could blush, he would be crimson right now.

“When will you be eighteen?” Gerard asks.

“Jailbait until September tenth,” Mikey says, smiling a little. “Do you mind?”

Michael's birthday was in the spring. Gerard remembers holding him when he was an infant, vowing to protect him. It happened lifetimes ago, but Gerard remembers it clearly.

“You're old enough to know what you want,” Gerard says. “In my day, you became a man at fourteen.”

“When was that? What year were you born?” Mikey asks.

Gerard waves the question away. “Does it matter?”

“I want to know just how much older than me you are,” Mikey says.

“I was twenty in sixteen sixty-five,” Gerard says, unknowingly echoing what he once told Frank. “And twenty forever after.”

Mikey stares at him, blinking. Gerard touches his mind and finds a tempest of questions and insecurities.

“It's okay,” Gerard says. “You aren't too young, neither are you too naïve. You're perfect to me, just the way you are.”

“You barely know me,” Mikey murmurs.

“I've seen into your soul,” Gerard says.

Mikey shivers again and looks down at his barely touched food. “It isn't fair that I can't return the favor.”

“I'll answer any question you have,” Gerard says.

But Frank chooses that moment to walk into the room, looking self-satisfied. Smugness radiates from him, and Gerard touches his mind. He sees images of Ray blushing and asking him on a date. A date! Frank has never been on a date, not that Gerard can remember. But Frank is full of satisfaction at the encounter, and Gerard smiles.

Mikey is watching them. “You make my head feel funny,” he says. “When you do that with your minds.”

Frank pauses and then takes his seat at Gerard's other side, across from Mikey. “You can feel that?”

“It's like a buzzing,” Mikey says.

Frank and Gerard exchange a look.

 _He'll be strong in the mind arts when he is turned_ , Gerard sends.

Frank nods and picks at his food.

“Did it go well with Ray?” Mikey asks, false innocence ringing in his voice.

Frank grins. “We have a date.”

“And what will you do on this date?” Gerard asks.

“Play video games?” Frank says with a shrug. “I don't know. Maybe a movie.”

“You play video games?” Mikey asks.

“Oh, yeah. I rock. I kick _ass_ ,” Frank says.

Mikey frowns a little, taking that in. “Vampires are just so... normal,” he murmurs.

“Not completely,” Gerard says.

“Well, yeah, there's the blood thing, and the mind thing, but other than that...”

“Obviously he's never heard you growl,” Frank jokes, but Mikey's eyes get big.

“You growl? Like a dog?” he asks.

“Like a vampire,” Gerard says, emphasizing the last word. “There's nothing dog-like about it.”

Frank giggles and pours himself a glass of wine.

“Can I hear it?” Mikey asks, his voice curious.

“I'm sure you will sooner or later. It's not something I can do on command,” Gerard says.

Mikey nods slowly, then eats more of his dinner. “This is very good.”

“Ray's a good cook,” Frank says proudly.

“Better than you, Mr. Firestarter,” Gerard murmurs.

Mikey watches them, shaking his head a little. Gerard touches his mind on instinct, and sees that he's confused and a little appalled at how normal they are.

“I told you not to do that,” Mikey says, waving his hand as if batting away a fly. Gerard withdraws from his mind.

“I'm sorry, it's a habit,” he says.

“I don't like you doing it without permission,” Mikey says.

Gerard nods and drinks his wine.

“Does alcohol effect you?” Mikey asks.

“If I drink enough of it,” Gerard says. “I'm more likely to get drunk from feeding from someone who's inebriated, however. If it's in the blood, it's easier for me to digest.”

Gerard went through a period of time drinking from people in speakeasies, getting drunk on blood and bootlegged whiskey. Those memories are a blur, and he hasn't gone back to feeding to get drunk in a long time. He missed Michael then, despaired that he would never find him. Frank didn't know what to do. But Brian came along again and picked him up, scolded him, dusted him off, and reminded him that life went on and loved ones would always find each other again.

Gerard hasn't seen Brian in decades now, but he still holds a special place in his heart. He just doesn't ache for him the way he aches for his Michael.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mikey says.

Gerard shakes his head and says, “Just remembering an old friend.”

Mikey looks like he will ask more, but Frank butts in and says, “So what grade are you in?”

“I'm a junior,” Mikey says. “I'm thinking of dropping out, though.”

“Why?” Gerard asks.

Mikey shrugs. “I hate school. I'd rather hang out and … I don't know. Do anything but homework, anyway.”

“What would you do without an education?” Gerard asks. “You couldn't get a job.”

“You sound like my mom. _She_ wants me to go to college,” Mikey says.

“College is good,” Frank says. Both he and Gerard have taken night classes in the past, eager to learn more about the modern world.

“Why would I go to extra school if I don't have to?” Mikey asks.

“What do you want to do instead?” Gerard asks.

Mikey shrugs. “I'd like to be in a band.”

“Play anything?” Frank asks.

“Sorta. Bass, a little,” Mikey says.

“I'm in a band. If you get better, I could set you up,” Frank says. “It doesn't pay the bills, though. You'd still have to go to school.”

“I saw you play that night,” Mikey says slowly. “I'd forgotten.”

“You've had a lot on your mind since then,” Gerard says. “It's understandable.”

“So... what do you do?” Mikey asks Gerard.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks.

“I mean, Frank's in a band, so what do you do? Are you in a band, too?”

Gerard laughs. “I'm an artist, I guess. I've sold a few of my pieces. I'm working on a graphic novel.”

“You guess?” Frank says teasingly. “You've been painting for centuries and you _guess_ you're an artist?”

Gerard shrugs and laughs again. Mikey joins in, and the sound of his laughter makes Gerard stop and stare at him.

Mikey goes silent, looking at him. “What?”

“I've never heard you laugh before,” Gerard says.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Mikey asks.

Gerard smiles. “Your laughter is a very good thing.” It's musical to him, so familiar and yet not.

Mikey smiles shyly and returns to his food.

After they eat, Frank proposes a walk outside. “Don't worry,” he says to Mikey, “We'll protect you.”

“Stop reading my mind,” Mikey says.

“Didn't have to, that time,” Frank says happily. “It was written all over your face.”

They walk down by the canal, where the cherry-blossom trees are in full bloom. The fragrance is thick in the air, nearly overwhelming to Frank and Gerard's senses. Gerard concentrates on Mikey's scent: light sweat, soap, shampoo, and musk.

Mikey looks at him strangely when Gerard leans in close. “Are you sniffing me?”

Gerard pulls back, smiling. “I like the way you smell.”

“I want to smell him,” Frank says, leaning far into Mikey's personal space.

Mikey laughs and pushes him back. “Stop that. Crazy vampires.”

“I'm not crazy,” Frank says seriously.

Gerard sends him a wave of reassurance. “No, you aren't.”

Mikey looks back and forth between them as if trying to figure out what they aren't saying, then seems to give up and shrugs. “Okay. Not crazy. _Eccentric._ ”

Frank grins and takes Mikey's hand. Mikey lets him, then looks at Gerard. Hesitantly, Gerard reaches out and takes his other hand. They walk like this for awhile, Mikey between them. It's a warm, humid night. Bats fly above them. Mikey looks up.

“Can you do that?” he asks. “Turn into a bat? Fly?”

“We can't turn into bats,” Gerard says. “But we could outrun them.”

“Show me,” Mikey says.

Frank giggles and runs away, barely a blur in the night.

Gerard looks at Mikey. “Do you trust me?”

Mikey bites his lip and nods. “I guess.”

Gerard picks him up and pulls him against his chest. “Hold on.”

Then he runs. He runs full-out, carrying Mikey with him. Mikey gasps as the wind hits him, and he turns his face away and into Gerard's chest. Gerard passes Frank easily – he's always been faster – and runs straight out of the Belleville. He feels Frank behind him, struggling to catch up, but he doesn't slow. He keeps running, on and on, until he reaches the river. He takes it with one leap, and Mikey cries out in alarm.

He stops then, still holding Mikey. “Trust me,” he says.

Mikey is shaken, but he nods. “I do. I just thought...”

“I wouldn't let you drown,” Gerard says gently. “I will never let anything bad happen to you.”

“Where are we?” Mikey asks, looking around.

“The city,” Gerard says. “Want to go dance?”

“...New York,” Mikey says flatly. “You carried me all the way to _New York_?”

Frank finally comes, panting and flailing. “You left me behind!”

Gerard grins and kisses him hard. “You should learn to keep up with me.”

When Gerard turns back to Mikey, he's watching them both with interest.

“We're going to dance,” Mikey finally says. “Are you coming with us?”

“Where are we going?” Frank asks. “You can't take him into Albion with us. He's not claimed.”

Mikey raises an eyebrow. “Claimed?”

“Something you aren't ready for yet,” Frank says, ignoring the look Gerard gives him.

“We'll go somewhere else, then,” Gerard says, waving his hand.

“What's Albion?” Mikey asks.

“Vampire club,” Frank says. “You go in there a human, you come out a slave. It's not safe unless you've been claimed by a vampire, and even then it's iffy.”

Mikey shivers. “Let's stay away from there, then.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “It never crossed my mind,” he says. “We'll go to Gotham.”

“Vampire friendly, human safe,” Frank explains to Mikey. “There are rules in place.”

“I like the name,” Mikey says. “Does anyone dress up as the big black Bat?”

Frank laughs. “They dress up, alright.”

*

The mood inside Gotham is dark and friendly. Mikey is carded at the door, but Frank quickly thralls the bouncer to let them enter together. Several people shift position as the vampires enter with their human companion, and Gerard recognizes a couple of them. He dismisses them, then scans the others for threats.

They greet him without hostility. This is a safe place, a place where vampires and humans intermingle, where no one is better than another. Gerard relaxes.

Mikey is watching him. “Safe?” he asks. His intuition is a beautiful thing. He reads Gerard's body language like Gerard reads minds.

“Yes,” Gerard says, pulling him out onto the floor.

Bodies writhe around them, dressed in black – some in leather, some in chains, all black, everywhere. Frank is the only one in the place wearing red. Mikey's shirt blends in well, and Gerard always wears black.

Mikey dances close, peering into Gerard's face.

“What is it?” Gerard asks.

“Do you want to do that to me?” Mikey asks. “The claim, I mean.”

Something must show on Gerard's face because Mikey nods as if he's answered.

“I've only ever claimed one human before,” Gerard says.

“Who?” Mikey asks.

“Frank,” Gerard answers. Frank moves to their side, dancing against a girl with many piercings. He's smiling at her, telling her about his latest tattoo.

Mikey looks over at him, smiling faintly. “And then you turned him.”

“Not exactly,” Gerard says. “But this is a story for another time.”

“I want to know,” Mikey murmurs. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Just dance with me for now,” Gerard says, pulling him tight against him. Their bodies press close, Mikey hot and damp against Gerard's cool dryness.

“Tell me about claiming?” Mikey asks against Gerard's ear. “What do you want to do to me?”

Gerard growls softly. “I want to make you mine.”

Mikey shivers again and presses his hardening cock against Gerard's hip. “Look into my mind,” he says. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

He can, even without touching Mikey's mind. Mikey smells of arousal now, thick and permeating. Gerard sends him a wave of desire. “Do you feel how much I want _you_?”

Mikey goes weak in his arms and Gerard has to hold him up.

“Sorry, I didn't realize it was that strong,” Gerard murmurs in his ear.

“Holy shit,” Mikey says.

And then Gerard realizes his mistake. He sent all his emotions to Mikey, not just his lust. His love, his devotion, his _everything_. Even the possessiveness that drives Gerard to hold Mikey closer and growl at an approaching vampire.

Mikey doesn't even notice. He's too busy collecting himself again after the onslaught of Gerard's emotions.

“I'm sorry,” Gerard says. “I miscalculated my hold over my feelings when I'm with you.”

“Oh,” Mikey says. “You feel a lot.”

Gerard catches his gaze and nods. Mikey's eyes are large now as he stares back.

“You feel all that... for me?” he asks softly.

Gerard can't do more than nod.

Instead of running away as Gerard expects him to, Mikey rests his head on Gerard's shoulder. He continues to dance, albeit slowly now. “I don't know what to say to that.”

“Shh. You don't have to answer my feelings,” Gerard says. “I know this is still new to you.”

Gerard is still touching Mikey's mind, so he begins to pull away.

 _Don't_ , Mikey sends hesitantly. _I've gotten used to it._

Gerard bathes Mikey's mind with reassurance, flooding through the cracks of denial and hesitancy. Mikey sighs comfortably and holds Gerard closer.

Frank dances closer to them, and Gerard reaches out for him. Frank looks at Mikey, then places a hand on Mikey's back as he grinds against Gerard's side.

“Okay?” Gerard asks Mikey.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. He leans against Frank's hand and Frank moves behind him, pressing against his back.

They move as one, slowly and to their own music. Gerard feels only contentment and safety from Mikey, no discomfort at all. Gerard smiles at Frank over Mikey's shoulder and gently kisses Mikey's temple.

They get Mikey home safely before the dawn. He seems tired, utterly worn out emotionally, yet when Gerard touches his mind one last time he finds only happiness.

“And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” Gerard murmurs in his ear before Mikey leaves.

Mikey smiles tiredly and says, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“If I start now I won't want to stop,” Gerard says.

“Is that a no?” Mikey asks, leaning closer.

Gerard shakes his head mutely and presses his lips against Mikey's. It's gentle and soft, something he's not often able to do. But he loves this human, loves him with all of his soul. So he brushes his lips across Mikey's like a feather, then pulls away.

Mikey has his eyes closed and he's clinging to Gerard's shoulders as if he might fall.

“Go home before you get in trouble with your mother,” Gerard says gently.

Mikey nods and climbs into his car. “Can I come again tomorrow night?”

“You're always welcome here,” Gerard says.

Gerard watches as Mikey drives away. Frank is by his side again, watching with him.

“You were gentle with him,” Frank says. “More than you ever were with me.”

“Jealous?” Gerard asks.

“No. I know what he means to you,” Frank says.

“He's so young,” Gerard says. “He doesn't know what he's getting into.”

“He's following his heart,” Frank says quietly.

“I don't want to break it,” Gerard says.

“You have to be careful with him,” Frank says. “Keep moving slowly, even if he wants more.”

“I want to turn him,” Gerard says. “I want the assurance that he'll be with me forever.”

Frank wraps an arm around his waist. “Even if you turn him, that will be his decision alone.”

Gerard doesn't look at him. “Then I'll have to make sure he chooses me, won't I?”

*

“So tell me about Frank,” Mikey says, holding a game controller up high as his man jumps on the screen. It is two months to the day after their first meeting. They are just hanging out, playing video games in Gerard and Frank's house. It's getting late, but neither of them wants to say goodbye.

Gerard pauses the game. “What do you want to know?”

“If you didn't turn him into a vampire, who did?” Mikey asks. “And why do you call him your childe if you weren't the one who did it?”

“I adopted him,” Gerard says slowly, putting down his controller. “He wasn't turned in the usual way, with love or affection. His maker was insane. She tortured him, then turned him so he wouldn't break under more torture.”

Mikey's eyes widen as Gerard talks, and he grabs Gerard's hand. “I thought you claimed him before that.”

“I did, but then Frank found out something about me that made him run away. I tried to keep an eye on him, but...”

“You couldn't protect him? Even though he was yours?” Mikey asks.

Gerard shakes his head. “He was in terrible shape when Brian found him and brought him back to me-”

“Who's Brian?” Mikey asks.

Gerard pauses for a moment. “He's a very good friend,” he says. “He's...” He doesn't know how to describe Brian. He was Gerard's sire in another life, and Gerard feels closer to him than he does to Azrael.

“You love him,” Mikey murmurs.

“Yes,” Gerard says. “Very much.”

“Where is he now?” Mikey asks.

“Sleeping, most likely,” Gerard says. “The last I heard from him, he was in California. But that's been some time ago.”

“You don't seem too broken up about being apart from him,” Mikey says.

“His childe, Julia, she's the one who tortured Frank. He could have killed her but he didn't. He let her live,” Gerard explains. The pain has lessened over the years, but he still hates that Brian allowed Julia to keep her life after what she did to Gerard's Court.

“Long story, huh?” Mikey says. “So how did you adopt Frank? Are there papers you sign or something?”

“There's a ritual,” Gerard says.

Mikey fiddles with the seam of the sofa cushion. “What about claiming? Is there a ritual involved there, too?”

“Sort of. It's not quite as involved,” Gerard says. “I take your blood, and you take some of mine.”

“That's all?” Mikey asks.

“No,” Gerard says with a smile. “There's lots of sex involved too.”

“Sounds cool,” Mikey says, smiling back. “What does it do?”

“Prevents you from growing old. It shows other vampires that you're taken and not to be messed with. Gives you strength and some protection against … disease and the like.”

The disease that took Michael in the first place flashes through Gerard's mind and he grimaces.

“What?”

“Do you believe in Fate?” Gerard asks. He feels as if his future hangs in the balance at this moment. He remembers Azrael's rantings against God and Fate and anything of the like. He knows in his heart that Mikey is nothing like him, is closer to human than anyone Gerard has ever met.

Mikey chews his lip. “I do. I think. I mean, I think I always did, but after I met you I really believed, you know?”

Gerard smiles. “I do know.”

Mikey slides his hand into Gerard's and entwines their fingers. “Why haven't you taken me to bed yet? Why haven't you claimed me?”

“It hasn't been that long,” Gerard says.

“It's been two months,” Mikey says. “And you know I want to.”

“When you drink my blood, everything will change,” Gerard says. What he doesn't say is that Mikey will likely remember their past lives together after that. Gerard is both eager and nervous about this.

“Change how?” Mikey asks.

“We'll be connected,” Gerard says. “More in tune with each other. Able to speak telepathically, if you choose. Able to read each other's thoughts and emotions.”

“Well, you do that to me already,” Mikey says. “I think I'd like being able to turn the tables on you.”

Gerard smiles and cups his face, bringing him forward for a gentle kiss.

A knock at the door disturbs them. Gerard sends his mind out and freezes.

“Leave,” he says to Mikey. “Out the back door. Don't look back, just go.”

“What?” Mikey says, and Gerard pulls him to his feet and starts pushing him towards the back of the house.

But Azrael is there on the back steps when Gerard opens the door.

“Going somewhere, childe of mine?” he asks. He looks menacing standing there in the dark, dressed all in black with long, black hair and red eyes. Beside Gerard, Mikey shudders and takes a step back. Azrael smiles. “And who is this? A human?”

Gerard swallows hard and holds the door open. “Mikey was just leaving.”

“Mikey. Mikey, what an immature name. Do you mind if I call you Michael?”

Gerard holds his breath and stares at Azrael.

Mikey nods. “My grandmother calls me Michael.”

“Not Gerard?” Azrael asks. “That's strange. Then again, the name might bring back bad memories for him, poor childe.”

Azrael is acting even more unnerving than usual. More sinister. Gerard remembers well how he would treat a human before feasting on their blood. That is the way he's treating them both right now.

“Sire,” Gerard says, trying to placate him. “You and I have many centuries to catch up on. Let the human leave.”

Azrael grabs Mikey's arm and pulls him close, looking him up and down. “I fed mere hours ago, and yet I find myself hungering yet again.”

Gerard growls. “Let him go.”

Azrael laughs but keeps holding Mikey's arm. He's pressing hard into the muscle and Mikey winces. “You haven't claimed him yet,” Azrael says, looking at Mikey's neck.

“I was going to do that tonight,” Gerard says.

“So is this human the reason why you neglected to come when I called for you?” Azrael asks. “If I were a smaller creature, I'd be jealous.”

Mikey looks back and forth between them, his fear heightening. Gerard touches his mind with reassurance, but his own anxiety taints the emotion.

“Do you believe in an afterlife, Michael?” Azrael asks, his fangs extended and leaning towards Mikey's neck.

“I guess,” Mikey says.

“You believe in God?” Azrael asks, breathing on Mikey's neck.

Gerard roughly pulls Mikey away from him and positions himself to Mikey's front. “Leave him alone.”

“He's just another human,” Azrael hisses. “He cannot love you, not truly. He cannot accept you for what you are.”

Gerard holds his head high and is about to answer when Mikey says, “I do accept him.”

“You have no idea who he is!” Azrael rages, lunging at Mikey. Gerard stands between them, pushing Azrael back with both hands.

“Sire!” he shouts. “Enough of this!”

“Yes, I've had quite enough of his kind. Trying to live above their stations, murdering without cause. How can you associate with this one, Gerard?” Azrael says. “Ah, I see. It is because of your brother, isn't it? This one looks like him. He feels _familiar_ to you. You think he holds your brother's soul, don't you?”

Mikey goes still, listening.

“But humans don't have souls, Gerard,” Azrael says. “They are worse than us. They kill each other, and kill our kind as well. I've had enough of humans. I will not stand to let this one influence you.”

“Let him go,” Gerard says again, softly, knowing now he spoke to a madman. “And he will not trouble you again.”

Mikey begins to slip around Gerard, heading towards the door slowly.

“No. I think I will kill him,” Azrael says. He looks at Mikey and licks his fangs. “I like young blood.”

Mikey trembles and Gerard sends frantically in his mind for Frank. He should have done so sooner, he knows. Now it may be too late.

“You cannot kill him,” Gerard says. “He's under my protection.”

“Like I said before, you haven't claimed him,” Azrael says.

“If you're hungry, I'll send for a donor,” Gerard says desperately. “Or we'll hunt. It's been so long since we've hunted together, hasn't it?”

“Why does he mean so much to you?” Azrael snarls.

“Please, Sire. Please,” Gerard begs. “Leave him alone.”

Azrael stares with loathing in his red eyes as Mikey slips out the door. He doesn't stop him, though, even though Gerard knows he could.

“He looks just like your brother,” Azrael whispers, still looking after Mikey.

Gerard swallows hard. Azrael could still choose to go after Mikey, it would only take the slightest misstep.

“Do you want to go to the city?” Gerard asks. “The hunting grounds are fertile there.”

Azrael finally looks at him. “What has happened to you, that you care so much for a human?”

“I've changed,” Gerard says.

Azrael snarls and presses him against the wall. “You are what I made you to be.”

Gerard stares into Azrael's eyes, touching his mind. “I'm not the same creature you made.”

Azrael recoils from the emotion he receives from Gerard's mind. “No, I see you are not.”

“Gerard!” Frank calls, then runs into the room. “What-”

“And who is this?” Azrael asks, looking Frank up and down.

“This is my childe, Frank,” Gerard says.

“Ah. So you did make a childe,” Azrael says. “A grandchilde for me. How ... familial.”

“Frank, this is Azrael,” Gerard says. “My sire.” He's still pinned against the wall and he's sure it makes for a confusing sight.

Frank touches Gerard's mind. _Where's Mikey?_

 _He went home_ , Gerard sends back.

Azrael lets go of Gerard and stalks over to Frank. He leans down and sniffs Frank's neck, breathing in his scent. Frank is very still, looking at Gerard.

“You've done good, Gerard,” Azrael murmurs.

Gerard knows Azrael must be out of his mind with grief over his sire's death, and so he goes along with whatever Azrael wants.

Azrael wants them to hunt as a family, so Frank and Gerard agree. They run into the city, Azrael much faster than either of them. They go to a dance club and Azrael points out a young man he wants to watch Frank feed from.

Frank thralls the human and leads him over to a dark corner. He feeds, slowly and deliberately, and Azrael huffs. “Kill him, boy,” he says.

Frank blinks at Azrael and turns to Gerard.

“No,” Gerard says. “We don't kill innocents anymore.”

Azrael tilts his head. “Innocent? Your idealism is misguided. I thought I taught you better than this.”

Frank licks the human's wounds closed and sends him on his way. Azrael focuses and thralls another human to approach him.

Gerard watches as Azrael bares his fangs, holding the woman immobile with his mind. Fright appears on the woman's face, but she is unable to move.

“Do you see, Gerard? This is how you treat them. Like cattle to be slaughtered. Because that is all they are, do you understand?” Azrael grabs the woman by one arm and drags her close. He rips into her throat is if into a piece of meat.

He laps at her wound, wasting more than he drinks. She dies with a horrified gurgle. He releases her, letting her body fall to the ground.

“You used to enjoy such things,” he says to Gerard. “Surely you haven't forgotten.”

Gerard feels sick and hungry at the same time.

“Humans are filthy creatures, childe,” Azrael says. “Only good for what they can give us. Blood. Sex. Companionship occasionally, but you can't count on them for that. They live so fast and die so easily.” He calls another human forward, this one a teenaged girl.

Gerard and Frank are working frantically to keep the crowd from noticing.

“Disposable,” Azrael says, taking the girl by the neck. “That is what they are. Animals, all of them.”

“Let her go,” Gerard says lowly.

Azrael looks up as if surprised. “Why? Do you want her, instead?”

 _He's mad. Deeply and truly mad_ , Frank sends.

Gerard nods at him and turns back to Azrael. “I haven't fed yet,” he says.

Azrael nearly throws the girl into Gerard's arms. Immediately, Gerard sends her feelings of safety and warmth. She smiles up at him, heavily thralled.

He bites into her neck and drinks slowly, savoring. He pays attention to her heartbeat so he doesn't take too much. Then he steadies her and lets her go.

“What was that?” Azrael says.

“That was me feeding,” Gerard says, staying calm. “Now we can go home.”

“You call this a hunt? One human each?” Azrael says.

“It is enough for us,” Gerard says.

“To survive? Yes. To live?” Azrael asks, and pauses.

“I live just fine,” Gerard says.

“What is at your home that you can offer me?” Azrael asks.

Gerard licks his lips and walks forward, with purpose. He presses against Azrael and murmurs, “I offer myself.”

In his mind, he can feel Frank's horror. But Azrael is Gerard's sire, and he doesn't know what else to do. He will let him fuck him and sleep, and tomorrow night Gerard will figure out what to do. He just has to buy some time.

Except Azrael laughs and pushes him away. “I don't think so, childe. I don't want you like this, with human compassion and … ethics. Why would I?”

It doesn't exactly wound Gerard, but he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt. Being rejected by one's sire is painful.

Gerard says, “You think I was so perfect before? I couldn't love. I couldn't give. I hurt those I should have protected.”

“Do you love me, childe?” Azrael asks curiously. He presses on Gerard's mind, forcing him to tell the truth.

“I feel affection for you,” Gerard admits. The pressure on his mind bears down until he says, “But I don't love you.”

“I thought not,” Azrael murmurs. “What of your childe? Do you love him?”

“Yes, I do,” Gerard says. “Very much.”

“And your human? The one you call Mikey?” Azrael says. “No, don't answer. I can see it in your mind. I could snap his neck like a dry twig, you know.”

Gerard, still under Azrael's influence, answers without qualm. “I would kill you before you could do that.”

Azrael, instead of getting angry, laughs at this statement. “You think you can kill your own sire?”

“If I have to,” Gerard says. “I'd rather not.”

Beside him, Frank is getting antsy. _Shut up, Gee._

“What if I killed you first?” Azrael asks, pressing his hand over Gerard's heart. It's a hard press, as if he's contemplating going through the skin at that very moment.

What _if_ he killed Gerard? Brian would rise, he knows. Brian would get revenge.

“Ah, I see it,” Azrael says, searching Gerard's memories. “Who is this Brian and why should he care so much?”

Azrael sifts through Gerard's memories as if they are sand. He sees linked memories, of Brigh long ago, of Brian near the present day, of fucking furiously and loving twice as fiercely. He sees Mihaitus, Michael, Mikey...

“No,” Azrael whispers.

Gerard blinks back tears at the suddenness of the memories flying through his head. He feels them all at once in this moment, the happy and the horrible.

“You believe,” Azrael says, hanging his head.

“Did you love Selim?” Gerard asks, wiping his eyes. “Because his soul will be reborn, someday. All you have to do is wait.”

“I loved him, I hated him. I long to be with him again,” Azrael whispers.

“Then you will,” Gerard says.

“I don't believe in Fate,” Azrael says.

“Then make your own,” Gerard says. “That is what you taught me, isn't it?”

Azrael looks up again, staring into Gerard's eyes. _I don't believe in myself, either._

“Learn to,” Gerard says. “That's all I can say.”

Azrael reaches out and cups Gerard's chin. “How?”

Gerard takes his hand away gently. “First, you must get over your grief. Stop taking out Selim's murder on innocent people.”

How did Brian deal with Julia's grief?

“How long has it been since you slept?” Gerard asks. He knows Azrael will pick up on the meaning.

“I've never slept,” Azrael says, “Never for more than a week or so.”

“Maybe it's time,” Gerard says. “Sleep, and then when you wake, you can look for Selim.”

“How will I find him?” Azrael asks.

Gerard smiles a little. “Fate.”

*

When Gerard awakes the next night, he feels Mikey's presence in the house. He pads downstairs and follows the sound of a heartbeat into his studio.

Mikey has all the sheets off their canvases, and completed paintings pulled out all around. He looks up when Gerard comes through the door.

“What is this?” Mikey asks, pointing at one painting of Mihaitus. He's barely dressed, just a piece of linen draped over his shoulder.

“Someone I knew in another life,” Gerard answers truthfully.

Mikey's eyes narrow. “Your brother?”

Gerard nods.

“Tell me what I don't know, Gerard,” Mikey says. “Please.”

Gerard closes his eyes. “Once upon a time-”

“This isn't a fairy tale,” Mikey says.

“No, it isn't,” Gerard says. “Fairy tales always have a moral, and I can't find one for this story.”

“Do you believe in reincarnation? Is that what this is about?” Mikey asks.

Gerard closes his eyes. “I've known you before, yes.”

“Were you going to tell me about it?” Mikey asks. “Or just leave me in the dark?”

“I would have told you after I claimed you,” Gerard says. “You would remember then. When you take my blood, you'll know for yourself.”

“You don't love me for myself,” Mikey says blank-faced.

“I-”

“You love me because I look like your brother,” Mikey says.

“No,” Gerard says slowly, dragging the word out. “I love you for your soul.”

“That's pretty,” Mikey says, then laughs. The sound is hollow.

“Can I tell you about him? About them?” Gerard asks, waving his hand at the paintings. “Will you listen with an open mind?”

Mikey looks lost. Confused. He nods hesitantly.

Gerard sighs and goes over to his favorite portrait, one of Michael at fifteen, smiling widely. The painting is of a time shortly before his death. “My brother was only sixteen when the plague took him. Do you know about the Great Plague of London?”

Mikey shakes his head mutely.

“It was a later outbreak of the Black Death,” Gerard murmurs, looking into the eyes of the portrait. “It started in 1665. I was twenty, unmarried, the heir to my family's fortune. It struck the docks first, and then the poor outside the city. But it wasn't long before it spread to London itself.”

Mikey nods slowly, listening.

“By September, our neighbors' houses were quiet, and our own house was ill,” Gerard says. “The servants fled, probably to die elsewhere. I watched our parents succumb to the plague, laid them out in the parlor myself. I wasn't sick, not yet. Then Michael fell ill.”

Gerard swallows and looks away from the painting.

“He was only a year younger than me,” Mikey says softly.

“He was... he'd never...”

“He was a virgin,” Mikey says.

“Yes. There was so much of life he never experienced. I remember thinking that as I watched him become more and more sick,” Gerard says. His voice is thick.

Mikey takes his hand and looks at the painting. “His eyes are dark.”

Gerard nods. “Your cheekbones are higher and your hair is darker,” he says.

“Tell me the rest,” Mikey urges, squeezing his hand.

“I prayed. I believed in God so much, and I believed he would spare Michael,” Gerard says. “I prayed until my voice was hoarse.”

“But he died,” Mikey whispers.

Gerard closes his eyes tightly. “He asked me to climb into bed with him. I did. I held him, and then I fell asleep. I was so tired. And when I woke, he was cool again. I thought the fever had broken.”

“But that wasn't it,” Mikey says. He wraps an arm around Gerard's shoulders and hugs him.

“He died during the night, in my arms. I... I couldn't bear to leave him, so I stayed just like that. And that's when Azrael found me.” He leans his head on Mikey's shoulder.

“I'm not him,” Mikey says softly. “Even if I believed in reincarnation, even if I had memories of him – I'm still not him. I'm me. I'm Mikey, not Michael or whoever the one in the toga is.”

“Mihaitus,” Gerard murmurs. “We were twins.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't you, was it?” Mikey asks. “And I'm an only child. Plus, I don't think I'd want to fuck my own brother, you know? No offense.”

“None taken,” Gerard says dryly.

“So I'm not him. I need you to understand that,” Mikey says.

“I do,” Gerard says. “I have memories of past lives, and I know I'm a separate person from them. I'll remember that you are, too.”

Mikey bites his bottom lip. “I don't know if I want to remember dying,” he says.

Gerard makes a face. “It isn't pleasant. But I'll be right here for you.”

“Did you know Frank in a previous life?” Mikey says, then frowns. “I can't believe I'm talking about this like it's true.”

“No, I didn't know Frank.” Gerard smiles a little. “It is true. I didn't accept it well at first, myself. You're taking this much easier than I did.”

Mikey shrugs. “How did you find out?”

“Brian,” Gerard says. “We were together in two previous lives.”

“Ah,” Mikey says, as if something suddenly fell into place. “You must really miss him.”

“I do. But not as much as I would miss you,” Gerard says.

Mikey moves closer and says, “Would you love me if I wasn't your brother?”

“You aren't my brother,” Gerard says slowly. “But … yes, if I knew you. I would love you no matter who you were.”

“Sweet talker,” Mikey mutters, then presses his lips against Gerard's.

Gerard kisses back, wrapping his arms around Mikey, pulling him closer.

“What do you want?” Mikey asks. “Truthfully. What do you want from me?”

“I want to turn you,” Gerard whispers against his lips.

Mikey stiffens, then relaxes in increments. “Why?”

“Because I don't want to lose you,” Gerard says. “Because I want to share my blood with you. Because I want you to be my childe.”

“I'm not ready for that,” Mikey says. “Is that okay?”

“I'm in no hurry,” Gerard says. “Though I should claim you to protect you.”

“Your sire doesn't like me,” Mikey murmurs.

“He doesn't really like humans all that much right now,” Gerard explains. “He lost his sire to a human mob a few months ago.”

“Would it be painful to lose a sire?” Mikey asks.

Gerard nods. “The connection between sire and childe is strong.”

“I want that with you,” Mikey whispers. “Just not yet.”

“You should finish school,” Gerard says.

Mikey groans and rolls his eyes. “Can we not talk about school right now?”

Gerard smiles and presses against him. “Would you rather I take you to bed?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mikey breathes.

Gerard leads him up the stairs slowly, to the bedchamber that he shares with Frank. But Frank will not be home for many hours. He's having his date with Ray. Gerard wishes him the best and puts him out of his head.

Mikey slides his hands down Gerard's sides and tugs at his shirt. “Off?”

Gerard nods and holds his hands up, letting Mikey take the lead. His shirt is quickly dropped onto the floor and then his hands are tugging at Mikey's clothes.

Mikey is beautiful. Gerard must say this aloud, because Mikey blushes and shakes his head. “Not like you,” he says.

But once Mikey is naked and spread out below him, Gerard has to say it again. “You're gorgeous, Mikey,” he says, leaning down to kiss him.

Mikey is hot from head to toe. Gerard has forgotten what it feels like to be with a human. Mikey's skin is giving off heat like a furnace, and Gerard presses against him, soaking up the warmth.

He's careful, only biting a little with blunt teeth, tracing patterns with his tongue down Mikey's throat. Mikey moans and wraps his arms tightly around him, holding him close. Gerard can feel the throb of his cock against his skin.

“Go into my mind,” Mikey says. “I want you to see what I feel.”

Gerard touches Mikey's mind and feels overwhelming waves of love, adoration, and desire. Gerard opens his mind to Mikey, projecting what he's feeling into his mind. Soon, Mikey will be able to touch his mind on his own, but for now he needs help.

Mikey gasps when he feels the depth of Gerard's feelings. “Fuck,” he says softly.

Gerard smiles and takes Mikey's face in his hands, then presses their foreheads together gently. “Tell me what you want.”

Mikey swallows audibly, then whispers, “Bite me. I want you to bite me.”

Growling lightly, Gerard nuzzles Mikey's neck. Mikey shivers and tilts his head back, exposing his throat. Gerard licks up Mikey's throat to his chin, then moves over to the side of his neck to kiss there lightly.

“C'mon, Gee. Do it,” Mikey says.

Gerard bites. His fangs slice through Mikey's skin, tapping the vein. Gerard sucks hard, blood flowing into his mouth.

Mikey tastes like ambrosia, food of the gods. His blood is thick and full of life. Gerard swallows his first mouthful and moans. He knows not to take too much, but he wants so much more.

 _You'll have such a pretty scar_ , Gerard sends.

“Oh, God,” Mikey breathes, rocking up against him. “Harder.”

Gerard clamps down harder, his fangs driving deeper until they can go no further. He drinks slowly, petting Mikey's hair.

When he's had enough – just a little bit more – he pulls back and runs his lips over the twin wounds, smearing blood across Mikey's neck. Then he bites into his wrist and offers it to Mikey. “Just a little,” he says.

Mikey licks his lips, staring at the blood dripping from Gerard's wrist. Then he takes it into his mouth, sucking lightly. He swallows, then swallows again.

“That's enough,” Gerard says softly, and pulls his wrist away.

Then Gerard gets the lube from the bedside and slicks his fingers.

Mikey licks his lips nervously. “I've never gone this far before.”

Gerard pauses and then says, “Roll over. Get up on your hands and knees. It'll be easier that way.”

Mikey obeys, looking at Gerard over his shoulder. “I trust you.”

Gerard leans down and kisses the base of his spine, then rubs over his hole with slick fingers. “Have you ever done this to yourself?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says, rocking back a little. “I can take it.”

“Reach out to me,” Gerard murmurs, guiding Mikey's mind to his own, showing him the way.

Mikey gasps as their minds touch. Their emotions swirl around each other in spirals, until it is impossible to tell who is feeling what. It is only important that the emotions are there. There is so much devotion, so much love between them.

Gerard pushes two fingers inside and Mikey rocks back on the intrusion, taking them faster than Gerard would have thought. Memories roll over them both, and Gerard sees Mikey riding his own fingers, his head thrown back, his mind consumed with Gerard.

“ _Oh_ ,” Gerard breathes as his fingers slip past the tight ring of muscle and push in deep. Mikey is so hot, burning like a furnace. He clenches around Gerard's fingers, then begs for more.

Gerard slicks up again, then adds a third finger. Mikey whimpers and pants, pushing back so that he opens up. Gerard's cock twitches with want and leaks at the tip.

Mikey shifts on his hands and knees, rocking back on Gerard's hand, fucking himself. The lines of his body are long, his muscles lithe in a way that is simply gorgeous. “Please,” he gasps, angling his body for more.

Gerard pulls his fingers out slowly and slicks his cock. He moves into position and rubs the head over Mikey's hole, not quite teasing. Mikey moans and goes still, whispering, _Please, please, please..._ in Gerard's mind.

With one hand on Mikey's hip, Gerard presses inside. Slow, so slow, until Mikey rocks back and takes him faster. Then he is in and Mikey is feeling full and stretched, just the slightest hint of pain in his mind among the nearly overwhelming pleasure.

Gerard sends Mikey the sensations he feels, so that Mikey whimpers at the feeling of his own tight heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mikey whispers. “More, please...”

And Gerard gives it to him. He slides out, slowly, then angles himself just right and thrusts back in. Mikey cries out as Gerard's cock slides over his prostate. He is shaking on his knees. His arms give out and he leans on his elbows, his ass high in the air for Gerard to take.

Gerard sends him a picture of them from his perspective, so that Mikey can see the long line of his spine, the smooth skin of his back. He sends sensations again, of slick heat and tight muscle. Mikey whimpers and begs without words for more.

Slowly, Gerard begins to thrust in earnest. He focuses everything on Mikey's pleasure, so that his cock is hitting his prostate with every slide, so that when his fingers dig into Mikey's hips it's just the way Mikey wants them to.

“More,” Mikey says, his voice rough and low. His cock is leaking and bobbing, and Gerard wraps his hand around it and begins to stroke.

Mikey gasps and thrusts into Gerard's hand, then moves back against his cock. He is trapped between two sensations, thrusting and rocking back hard, until he's moving in tandem with Gerard. They rock together as one, Mikey fucking and being fucked, Gerard stroking and thrusting deep and hard.

Mikey climbs higher and higher into pleasure, reaching up until he's flying for one long, glorious moment. They are so tightly linked in their minds that Mikey's orgasm triggers Gerard's and they come together, two voices crying out in ecstasy.

They come down slowly, both of them panting, their bodies twitching with aftershocks. Gerard moves onto the bed, rolling on his back, and Mikey curls up against his side.

Their minds are still connected, and feelings of contentment and love flow back and forth between them.

“I'm yours now,” Mikey murmurs, kissing Gerard's chest.

“You've always been mine,” Gerard says. He pets Mikey's hair and twirls pieces between his fingertips. Mikey's hair is straight and brown, so unlike Michael's blond curls.

Mikey rolls onto his stomach and props his head up on his folded arms. “You'll have to teach me more mind stuff.”

Gerard smiles. “I will. You might even be able to communicate with Frank, since we share blood.”

“I like Frank,” Mikey says. “I just don't know if I want to be that close to him.”

“He likes you, too,” Gerard says.

Mikey is silent for a moment, his mind pulling back a little so that he can think in private.

“What is it?” Gerard asks.

“You're in love with him,” Mikey says.

Gerard nods. “I am.”

“And you're in love with me,” Mikey points out.

“Totally and completely,” Gerard whispers, kissing Mikey's forehead.

Mikey nods slowly. “What would happen if I fell in love with Frank?”

“Do you think that's possible?” Gerard asks.

Mikey shrugs. “I like him. He's cool. And he's really hot.”

Gerard smiles and sends Mikey a mental picture of the first time he met Frank. Mikey takes the image and looks it over, smiling a little.

“He was beautiful then, but in a different way,” Mikey says. “He looks weird without the tattoos and piercings.”

“And the hair,” Gerard says. Frank has never grown his hair out quite as long as it was when they first met.

“It's hard to believe he's so old,” Mikey says. “I mean, he seems so … modern, you know?”

“If a vampire doesn't change with the times, he goes a little insane,” Gerard says, thinking of Azrael.

“How have you changed?” Mikey asks.

Gerard looks at the ceiling and thinks. “When I was human, I was very religious. I wanted to be a priest at one point.”

Mikey laughs softly. “I can't see that.”

“Well, I did. I wanted to help people, and to serve my God,” Gerard says.

“Do you believe in God now?” Mikey asks curiously.

Gerard sighs. “After I was turned, I lost my faith. My sire drilled into my head that existence is temporary and random, that humans are nothing but animals, and when they die merely crumble to dust. He taught me that humans have no souls, that vampires are the closest things to gods, and that we could live without repercussions.”

“But now...”

“Now I know he was wrong. About everything,” Gerard says.

“And God?” Mikey asks.

Gerard smiles. “I believe there is Someone out there. I carry memories of worshiping gods of nature and force, and gods of emotion and intellect. I... I don't know what is out there, but I think the nature of God is something humans and vampires cannot know. We just make up stories that make sense to us because the real thing is beyond our ken.”

“I believe,” Mikey says. He closes his eyes and Gerard can feel him searching for buried memories, for flashes of images from a long time past. Gerard adds the strength of his mind to Mikey's, helping him find what he is looking for.

Mikey gasps as the first memory is uncovered.

“Slowly,” Gerard murmurs. “Don't take on too much at once.”

Mikey nods and then carefully turns over a bright, dreamlike image. The sun shines on brightly colored flowers and a light breeze musses his curls. He holds a silver spoon in his hands and he is digging into the nearly-black dirt. The dirt is cool against his hands and damp, and he uncovers a pale, wriggling earthworm. He picks it up with chubby fingers.

 _Mother is going to be so angry,_ dream-Gerard says. _You've taken her best silver and you're filthy now._

 _Wormy?_ Michael says, holding up his treasure.

Gerard's frown transforms into a smile as he watches his baby brother. _It's a lovely worm, Michael._

Michael smiles back and clasps the worm tightly in his hand. Then he reaches out, offering it to Gerard. _For you._

Gerard takes the earthworm carefully. Love and affection shine in his eyes. _Thank you very much, good sir._

 _Good sir, good sir!_ Michael sing-songs.

The memory ends, leaving them both with a feeling as warm as the summer sun.

“He adored you,” Mikey says.

“And I felt the same in return,” Gerard says, and carefully finds the right memory to share.

He is nearly still a baby himself. Mother is propped up in the bed, looking worn but happy. Gerard climbs onto the bed carefully, because Father said Mother is still weak and isn't to overexert herself.

Mother is holding a blanket. No, there's something _in_ the blanket. Is it a present? Why is it in a blanket? Why does mother look so tired?

 _Come here and see your baby brother,_ Mother says.

Gerard has heard this word brother before, but he doesn't know what it means. He knows what a baby is, though. He used to be a baby. There's been a baby in Mother's tummy for _ages_.

Mother moves the blanket so Gerard can see inside. A small face is revealed. It is red and scrunched, its nose flat. Two eyes gaze up at nothing, dark blue and unfocused.

Gerard frowns as he looks down at the baby. Surely he was never so small.

 _May I hold it?_ Gerard asks.

 _Him, not it,_ Mother says. _And his name is Michael._

Impatiently, Gerard asks again. _May I hold_ him _?_

Mother nods. _Sit back on the pillow and fold your legs. Look at how I hold him, do you see how I support his head? You have to be very careful with his head because his neck is not strong._

It's a lot of words at once for Gerard, but he struggles to understand. Babies are weak and breakable. He has to be careful.

Gerard holds his arms like Mother shows him, then watches as the baby is settled into them. The baby is so light and small. Gerard isn't sure he likes it. Him. But he feels good in Gerard's arms, warm and alive.

Then the baby does a curious thing. He looks up, and for a moment his eyes focus, meeting Gerard's. The baby stares, and Gerard feels something strange turn over in his heart.

 _Brother,_ Gerard says to the baby. To Michael. _You're my brother._

 _And you are his,_ Mother says gently.

Gerard watches the baby seriously. Understanding enters his mind. They are brothers, and brothers mean they belong to each other.

 _You'll have to protect him sometimes,_ Mother says. _And love him with all of your heart. Don't become jealous or angry with him, because he's just a baby and doesn't know any better._

Gerard only understands some of that. Protect, that is what he does to his wooden toys to keep them from being taken by others. He can protect. Love is what he feels for Mother, though he gets angry with her sometimes when she won't let him play, or when she sends him away from her. He doesn't know what jealous means.

 _Mine,_ Gerard whispers to baby Michael. _You're all mine._

The baby keeps looking up into Gerard's face, eyes large and dark. And for the first time in his life, Gerard doesn't feel alone.

He lets the memory fade, and when he opens his eyes, Mikey is looking at him with a wide, vulnerable look. Gerard can see himself through Mikey's eyes, like a distorted mirror. Distorted because Mikey does not see Gerard in the way he sees himself.

Mikey sees Gerard as a shining, beautiful creature. His eyes are larger, his hair softer, his lips fuller. Darkness covers Gerard's aura like a shroud of lace, enticing and safe. Gerard rebels against this image with a frown, sending his own picture of himself. He is scarred from his past, and his darkness is dangerous. His heart is just now healing, only able to love again through others' intervention. Without them, he is cold and black inside, lacking kindness and understanding.

Mikey shakes his head. “Maybe you were like that once,” he says. “But now you're something different. You've... evolved.”

Painfully, Gerard lets his darkest memories surface. Mikey looks at them. Gerard expects him to feel shock, confusion, or betrayal. But Mikey examines them in a detached way – no, not detached. He is accepting. He skims over the memories, then turns them over to look at the bottom, to feel the emotions. He doesn't find many. Gerard was lonely and confused, eager to please his sire, but he felt little besides that.

Mikey sighs tiredly. “You've changed.”

Gerard can feel his weariness and pulls back from Mikey's mind. He holds him close and kisses his hair. “Sleep. All this mind magic has made you tired.”

“Is it magic, really?” Mikey asks. He blinks sleepily into Gerard's face, curious.

“That's what Brian calls it. Azrael always called it an art.”

“I think I'll call it magic, too,” Mikey says, closing his eyes.

“Sleep,” Gerard says again. The sunrise is still hours away, and he can hold Mikey like this until it's time for him to go.

Mikey drifts off, his breath becoming even. An hour later, Frank slips into the bed and looks at Mikey's claim mark.

 _He's beautiful_ , Frank sends, careful not to wake Mikey with a whisper.

 _How was your date?_ Gerard asks.

Frank grins and lays back on the bed, his arms beneath his head. _I could fall in love with Ray._

A feeling pricks at Gerard's heart. Not jealousy. He's happy for Frank. But something that feels like loss twinges in his chest.

Frank looks at him in understanding. _I will always be your childe._

Gerard reaches out for his hand and twines their fingers together. _Will you leave me?_

Love and devotion floods Gerard's mind as Frank sends him all his emotions. _Has Brian left you?_

Gerard shakes his head. Even though he hasn't seen Brian in decades, he can still feel him with him. His soul lingers, their love preserving the connection.

But still, Gerard does not want Frank to go. _I don't want to live without you._

He can feel Frank turn this over in his mind. Finally, he sends, _Then all of us will live together._

Gerard can't help but laugh. _You and me, Mikey and Ray?_ The solution seems so simple, and yet anything but easy.

 _Eventually. We have all the time in the world,_ Frank says. His mind is bright and hopeful with possibility.

Gerard watches Mikey sleep, watches the even movements of his chest as he breathes. One day, Mikey will have no more need for breath. One day, they will share the same blood again.

One day.

“We're going to need a bigger bed,” Gerard whispers, and Frank can't contain his laughter.


End file.
